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1 


SERMONS 


HENRY  MELVILL,  B.D., 

MINISTER  OF  CAMDEN  CHAPEL,  CAMBERWELL,  AND  CHAPLAIN  TO  THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON  j 
FORMERLY  FELLOW  AND  TUTOR  OF  ST.  PETER'S  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE. 


COMPRISING 


ALL  THE  DISCOURSES  PUBLISHED  BY  CONSENT  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


EDITED  BY 

RIGHT  REV.  C.  P.  M'lLVAINE,  D.  D 

BISHOP  OF  THE  PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH  IN  THE  DIOCESE  OF  OHIO. 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

VOLUME  II. 


STANFORD  AND  SWORDS,  139,  BROADWAY. 

BOSTON:  CROCKER  &  BREWSTER.    PHILADELPHIA:  GEORGE  S.  APPLETON. 

CINCINNATI :  DERBY.  BRADLEY  &  CO. 

1849. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II 


SERMONS    ON    CERTAIN    OF   THE     LESS     PROMINENT    FACTS    AND    REFERENCES    IN 
SACRED  STORY.— FIRST  SERIES. 


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L— THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED 

II.— ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS 

HI.— THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS 

IV.— THE  PARTING  HYMN 

V— CvESAR'S  HOUSEHOLD  -  .... 

VI.— THE  SLEEPLESS  NIOHT  .... 

VII.— THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM 

VIII.— THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST      - 

IX.— THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER 

X.~ PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COAST  OF  DECA 

POL1S 

XL— THE  LATTER  RAIN       - 

XII.— THE  LOWLY  ERRAND 

XIII.— NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES 

XIV.— JABEZ  .... 

SECOND  SERIES. 

I.— THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH 

II.— THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE       . 

Ill  —THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER 

IV.— THE  SPECTRE'S  SERMON  A  TRUISM 

V.— VARIOUS  OPINIONS 

VI.— THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE 

VII.— SEEKING  AFTER  FINDING     - 

VIII.— THE  BIRD'S  NEST 

IX.— ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES 

X._ THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE 

XL— SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN 

XII.— THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE     - 

XIII.— PILATE'S  WIFE 

XIV.— THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN 

SERMONS  PREACHED  ON    PUBLIC  OCCASIONS. 

I.— THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL 

II.— CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN  OF  HUMAN  LIFE 

III.— THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST    - 

IV— THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE 

V.— THE  SHIPWRECK  ... 

VI.— ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL 

VII.— THE  WORD  IN  SEASON  .... 

VIII.— CHURCH  BUILDING 

IX.— THE  FINAL  TEST  ..... 

X.— THE  LOST  SHEEP 

XL— BROKEN  CISTERNS 

XII.— THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM 

XIII.— EDUCATION 


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SERMONS 

ON  CERTAIN  OF  THE 

LESS  PROMINENT  FACTS  AND  REFERENCES  IN  SACRED  STORY. 


FIRST  SERIES. 


SERMON   I. 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED. 


By  faith  Joseph,  when  he  died,  made  mention  of  the  departing  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  gave  commandment 
concerning  his  bones." — Hebrews,  xi.  22. 


We  have  often  occasion  to  point  out 
to  you  what  a  difference  there  is  in  the 
standards  by  which  God  and  men  judge 
the  relative  worth  or  importance  of 
things.  In  one  great  sense,  indeed, 
there  cannot  be  to  God  any  of  those 
distinctions  which  exist  to  ourselves ; 
for,  wondrously  exalted  as  He  is,  things 
must  be  equal  in  his  sight,  which  differ 
in  ours  in  many  respects  and  degrees. 
It  is  undoubtedly  to  forget  the  immeas- 
urable distance  of  the  Creator  from  the 
creature,  to  imagine  that  He  who  sitteth 
in  the  heavens,  swaying  the  universal 
sceptre,  regards  as  great,  and  as  small, 
just  what  are  reckoned  such  in  our 
feeble  computations.  There  ought  to 
be  nothing  clearer  than  this — if  our  great 
and  our  small  were  great  and  small  to 
God,  God  would  be  little  more  than  one 
of  ourselves,  judging  by  the  same  mea- 
sures, and  therefore  possessing  only  the 
same  faculties. 

Yet,  though  the  distinctions  made  by 
God  must  not  be  thought  the  same  with 
those  made  by  man,  we  are  not  to  con- 
clude  that   God  admits  no  differences 


where  differences  are  supposed  by  our- 
selves. We  are  evidently  in  error,  if 
we  think  that  what  is  great  to  us  must 
be  great  to  God,  and  that  what  is  small 
to  us  must  be  small  to  God  :  but  it  is 
not  necessary,  in  order  to  the  avoiding 
this  error,  that  we  should  confound  great 
and  small,  or  compute  that  in  God's 
sight  they  must  be  actually  the  same. 
They  may  not  be  the  same  ;  they  may 
be  widely  separated  :  and  yet  none  of" 
them  may  be  great  to  God,  none  of 
them  small :  whilst,  moreover,  the  di- 
vine estimate  may  be  the  reverse  of  the 
human,  great  and  small  changing  places, 
so  far  as  difference  is  allowed  between 
the  two. 

It  is  this  latter  fact  on  which  we  now 
chiefly  wish  to  fix  your  attention.  Take, 
for  example,  our  sins.  We  deny  that 
there  can  be  such  a  thing  as  a  sin  which 
is  small  in  God's  sight;  forasmuch  as 
sin,  from  its  very  nature,  must  be  of  in- 
finite guilt,  because  committed  against 
an  infinite  Being.  But  this  is  not  say- 
ing that  there  are  no  degrees  in  sin,  as 
though  God  regarded  all   crimes  as  of 


THE  FAITn  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED. 


equal  enormity.  One  sin  may  be  great- 
er than  another  in  the  Divine  estimate, 
as  well  as  in  the  human ;  and  yet  God 
may  account  no  sin  small,  however 
ready  we  may  be  to  think  this  or  that 
inconsiderable.  And  what  we  are  dis- 
posed to  reckon  trifling,  may  be  pre- 
cisely that  to  which  God  would  attach 
the  greater  criminality  ;  so  that,  as  we 
have  said,  great  and  small  may  change 
places,  and  where  both  God  and  man 
admit  a  difference,  you  may  have  to  re- 
verse the  judgment  of  the  one  to  find 
that  of  the  other.  Sins  of  the  mind,  for 
instance,  are  ordinarily  thought  less  of 
than  sins  of  the  flesh  ;  pride  incurs  but 
Blighl  reproof,  whilst  sensuality  is  heav- 
ily denounced.  Yet  the  proud,  perhaps, 
offers  a  more  direct  insult  to  God,  and 
more  invades  his  prerogative,  than  the 
sensual;  and  thus  his  offence  may  be 
the  more  hateful  of  the  two  in  the  sight 
of  the  Creator,  whilst  it  receives,  com- 
paratively, no  blame  from  the  creature. 
Accordingly,  there  is  nothing  of  which 
God  speaks  with  greater  loathing  than 
of  pride  :  the  proud  man  is  represented 
as  the  object  of  his  special  aversion. 
"  God  resisteth  the  proud."  So  that 
whilst  with  ourselves  he  puts  a  differ- 
ence between  sins,  he  inverts  our  deci- 
sion, and  assigns  the  greater  atrocious- 
ness  where  we  assign  the  less.  Take, 
again,  covetousness  and  drunkenness  : 
these  sins  are  neither  thought  by  men, 
nor  represented  in  Scripture,  as  of  equal 
enormity.  But  which  do  men  think  the 
worse  i  The  covetous  man  escapes 
with  scarce  a  censure  ;  the  drunkard  is 
the  object  of  scorn  and  reprobation.  But 
is  this  verdict  ratified  by  the  Bible] 
Nay,  whilst  the  drunkard  is  unreserved- 
ly told  that  his  sin  shall  exclude  him 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the  covet- 
ous man  is  identified  with  the  idolater. 
Noonewho  remembers  what  idolatry  is, 
and  how  <  rod  denounces  the  worshipper 
of  imfiges,  will  hesitate  to  admit  that 
Buch  a  representation  prices  covetous- 
ness at  the  very  top  of  things  offensive 
ti>  our  Maker.  How  careful,  then, 
ought  we  to  be  as  to  what  standards 
we  adopt,  when  we  would  estimate 
the  relative  guiltiness  of  sins !  If 
we  must  distinguish  sin  from  sin — 
though  it  were  perhaps  safer  to  con- 
fine ourselves  to  the  truth,  that  all  sin 
is  infinitely  heinous — let  us  take  good 
heed  that  we  always  go  for  our  rule  to 


the    Divine    word,    and   not   to   humar. 
opinion. 

And  much  the  same  may  be  said  in 
regard  of  duties,  and  of  actions  which 
God  may  graciously  be  pleased  to  ap- 
prove. It  is  not  to  be  thought,  that  be- 
cause no  human  action  can  deserve  re- 
ward from  God,  all  actions  performed 
in  his  service  must  be  of  equal  account. 
With  virtues,  as  with  vices,  God  may 
acknowledge  great  differences  :  He  will 
not  overlook,  as  too  small  for  notice,  the 
cup  of  cold  water  given  in  the  name  of 
a  disciple ;  but  he  does  not  necessarily 
put  this  act  of  benevolence  on  a  level 
with  every  other  achievement  of  faith 
and  of  love.  Yet  here  we  have  the 
same  remark  to  make  as  with  reference 
to  sins.  The  Divine  decision  will,  in 
many  cases,  be  wholly  different  from  the 
human  ;  whilst  actions  are  classified  by 
the  one  as  well  as  by  the  other,  the  su- 
periority may  be  assigned  in  a  contrary 
order.  The  act  of  righteousness,  which 
we  should  select  as  most  worthy  of 
commendation,  and  most  demonstrative 
of  piety  of  heart,  may  not  be  that  on 
which  the  Almighty  would  fix,  when 
signifying  his  approval  of  one  of  his 
servants.  It  may  rather  be,  that  some 
sacrifice  which  the  world  never  knew, 
some  exertion  which  was  limited  to  his 
own  home,  and  perhaps  even  his  own 
heart,  has  been  the  most  approved  thing 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  of  all  wrought 
by  one  whose  time,  and  substance,  and 
strength,  have  been  wholly  devoted  to 
the  cause  of  religion.  It  may  not  be 
when,  like  Paul,  he  is  fighting  "  with 
beasts  at  Ephesus  ;  "  nor  when,  like 
Stephen,  he  is  laying  down  his  life  for 
the  truth,  that  a  man  of  God  does  what 
specially  draws  on  him  the  smile  of  his 
Maker.  There  may  have  been  quiet  and 
unobserved  moments,  moments  spent  in 
solitude  and  prayer,  in  which  he  has 
fought  what  God  accounted  a  harder 
battle,  and  won  a  nobler  victory.  And 
in  the  arrangements  of  his  household,  in 
meeting  some  domestic  trial,  in  subduing 
some  unruly  passion,  he  may  virtually 
have  displayed  a  stronger  trust,  and  a 
simpler  preference  of  the  promises  of 
the  Most  High,  than  when  he  has  stood 
forth  as  the  champion  and  confessor, 
amid  all  the  excitement  of  a  public  scene, 
and  gained  for  himself  a  deathless  renown. 
"  The  Lord  seeth  not  as  man  seeth  :" 
and  mightily  should  it  console  those  who 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED, 


are  not  so  circumstanced  as  to  have  great 
opportunity  of  making  efforts  and  sacri- 
fices on  behalf  of  Christ  and  his  cause, 
that  it  is  not  necessarily  the  martyr 
whose  self-surrender  is  must  accepted  of 
God,  nor  the  missionary  whose  labors 
and  endurances  are  most  held  in  remem- 
brance ;  but  that  the  private  christian,  in 
his  struggles  with  himself,  in  his  morti- 
fication of  his  passions,  in  the  manage- 
ment of  his  family,  in  his  patience  under 
daily  troubles,  in  his  meek  longings  for 
a  brighter  world,  may  be  yet  dearer  to 
his  Father  in  heaven,  and  be  thought  to 
have  shown  more  of  faith,  than  many  a 
man  who  has  entered  boldly  the  desert  of 
heathenism  with  the  cross  in  his  hand,  or 
even  ascended  the  scaffold  to  seal  with 
his  blood  his  confession  of  Christ. 

Now  all  these  remarks  on  the  different 
standards  by  which  God  and  man  judge 
actions,  will  be  found  to  bear  directly  on 
the  words  of  our  text.  In  this  11th 
chapter  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
St.  Paul  collects  from  the  histories  of 
patriarchs,  and  other  worthies,  instances 
and  examples  of  the  power  of  faith. 
And  the  question,  in  reference  to  our 
foregoing  remarks,  is  whether  he  has  fixed 
upon  those  which  we  should  have  fixed 
upon  ourselves.  Inspired  as  the  Apostle 
was,  so  that  he  must  have  been  directed 
to  facts  most  worthy  of  commemoration, 
we  may  not  doubt  that  what  he  takes 
to  show  the  faith  of  any  one  of  the 
patriarchs,  must  be  at  least  as  strong  an 
instance  as  his  history  contains.  And 
if  the  instance  selected  by  the  Apostle 
be  not  that  which  we  should  have 
selected  ourselves — if  there  be  any  other 
which  we  should  have  decidedly  pre- 
ferred— it  is  evident  that  our  judgment 
differs  from  that  of  God ;  so  that  we  have 
precisely  the  case  on  which  we  have 
been  speaking,  the  case  in  which  what 
man  would  account  best  is  not  so  ac- 
counted by  Him  who  readeth  the  heart. 
But  this,  we  suspect,  is  exactly  what 
may  be  alleged  in  regard  of  our  text. 
We  give  you  the  history  of  Joseph,  a 
history  more  than  commonly  eventful, 
and  which  is  narrated  in  Scripture  with 
special  minuteness.  We  set  you  down 
to  the  examining  this  history,  in  order 
that  you  may  take  out  of  it  the  incident, 
or  the  action,  which  shall  most  clearly 
demonstrate  that  Joseph  had  faith  in 
God,  and  that  this  faith  was  a  principle 
of  great  energy  and  strength.     Do  you 


think  that  you  would  make  the  same 
selection  as  St.  Paul  makes  in  our  text? 
passing  over  all  the  trials  of  Joseph ; 
all  the  afflictions  which  he  bravely  and 
meekly  endured ;  his  confidence  in  his 
interpretation  of  Pharaoh's  dreams, 
though  on  the  truth  of  that  interpreta- 
tion depended  his  credit,  and  even  his 
life ;  his  eagerness  to  receive  his  father 
and  brethren  into  the  land,  though  every 
shepherd  was  "  an  abomination  unto  the 
Egyptians,"  and  they  were  but  likely 
to  lower  him  in  the  general  esteem — 
passing  over,  we  say,  all  this,  and  having 
literally  nothing  to  commemorate  of 
Joseph,  save  that  when  he  was  dying, 
he  "  made  mention  of  the  departing 
of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  gave 
commandment  concerning  his  bones." 
Would  this,  we  ask,  have  been  the 
fact  on  which  an  uninspired  writer- 
would  have  fastened,  when  choosing 
from  the  history  of  Joseph  what  might 
best  illustrate  the  Patriarch's  faith 
in  God  ]  Hardly,  we  think, — and  if  not, 
then  you  have  a  clear  exemplification  of 
the  truth  on  which  we  have  endeavored 
to  insist,  that  the  actions  which  seem  to 
men  most  conclusive,  as  evidences  of 
righteousness  of  character,  may  not, 
after  all,  be  those  to  which  God  would 
attach  most  worth  and  importance. 

It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  allow  that 
the  selected  proof  is  not  that  on  which 
we  ourselves  should  have  fixed,  and  quite 
another  to  conclude,  that  when  pointed 
out,  we  cannot  see  its  force.  We  may 
believe  that  you  all  concur  with  us  in 
the  opinion,  that  had  an  uninspired  writer 
had  to  choose  the  best  pi-oof  of  faith 
from  the  history  of  Joseph,  he  would 
not  have  chosen  that  selected  by  St. 
Paul.  But,  nevertheless,  we  may  be 
able  to  determine  that  the  proof  is  a 
strong  proof:  if  we  cannot  show  it  to 
be  the  strongest  which  the  history  fur- 
nishes, we  may  at  least  ascertain  that  it 
establishes  the  power  of  the  principle 
which  it  is  quoted  to  illustrate.  This 
then  it  is  which  we  must  propose  as  our 
object  through  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course. We  have  already  drawn  one 
vaJuable  inference  from  the  text,  in  that, 
through  showing  that  God  and  men  do 
not  always  judge  alike  in  regard  of 
righteous  acts,  it  teaches  us  that  the 
obscure  individual,  and  the  unnoticed 
deed,  may  be  more  approved  above 
than   the    conspicuous  leader,   and   the 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED. 


dazzling  performance.  But  we  have 
now  to  examine  whether  that  for  which 
Joseph  stands  commemorated  by  St. 
Paul,  did  not  strikingly  demonstrate  his 
faith.  We  put  out  of  sight  the  surpris- 
ing and  varied  occurrences  of  the  patri- 
arch's life  ;  and  standing  round  his 
death-bed,  we  will  simply  consider 
whether  he  did  not  display  extraordinary 
faith,  as  we  hear  him  make  "  mention 
of  the  departing  of  the  children  of 
Israel,"  and  give  "  commandment  con- 
cerning his  bones." 

Now  who  amongst  you  is  unaware  of 
the  power  which  posterity  has  of  attach- 
ing men  to  earth  1  of  the  unwillingness 
felt  by  those  who  have  every  gratification 
within  reach,  to  submit  to  any  change, 
or  even  to  contemplate  its  possibility ! 
It  is  not  necessary,  in  order  to  this  con- 
sciousness, that  you  should  yourselves 
abound  in  what  the  world  has  to  offer, 
for  then  there  would  be  comparatively 
few  to  whose  feelings  we  might  venture 
to  appeal.  But  you  are  all  judges  as 
to  the  tendencies  of  our  nature,,  when 
acted  on  by  certain  causes  and  circum- 
stances ;  and  you  may  all  therefore  de- 
cide, from  what  you  have  experienced  in 
yourselves,  whether,  in  proportion  as 
temporal  advantages  accumulate,  man  is 
not  disposed  to  settle  himself  below,  and 
to  prefer  the  present  to  the  future.  If 
I  were  looking  out  for  strong  proof  of  the 
power  of  faith,  of  faith  as  dictating  that 
eternal  and  invisible  things  be  preferred 
to  temporal  and  visible,  I  certainly  should 
not  go  to  the  hovel,  whose  wretched 
inmate  has  scarce  sufficient  for  subsist- 
ence ;  I  should  rather  turn  to  the  palace 
where  gorgeousuess  reigns,  and  all  that 
our  nature  can  desire  is  lavishly  spread. 
It  is  not  but  that  the  inmate  of  the  hovel 
has  a  wide  field  for  the  exercise  of 
faith,  a  far  wider,  in  some  respects, 
than  the  owner  of  the  palace;  but  in  the 
particular  respect  of  a  preference  of  the 
future  to  the  present,  of  a  readiness  to 
give  up  the  visible  on  the  Btrength  of  a 
promise  of  God,  which  refers  to  the 
invisible,  the  trial  of  faith  is  evidently 
with  the  man  of  abundance,  rather  than 
with  him  whose  whole  life  is  a  series  of 
Struggles.  The  pauper  may  be  said  to 
have  nothing  to  leave;  there  is  nothing 
in  his  portion  which  can  come,  even  in 
appearance,  into  competition  with  what  is 
promised  by  God  ;  whereas  the  noble  has 
to  separate  from  all  that  is  most  attractive 


in  this  lower  creation,  and  to  exchange  a 
felt  good  for  an  unseen  and  untried.  And, 
therefore,  if  we  found  the  noble  quite  in- 
different to  what  he  had  to  abandon,  so 
possessed  with  a  persuasion  of  the  im- 
measurably greater  worth  of  invisible 
tilings,  that  he  was  all  eagerness  to  enter 
on  their  enjoyment,  we  should  say  that 
here  had  faith  won  one  of  the  finest  of 
its  triumphs,  and  that  perhaps  no  where 
could  its  display  be  more  conspicuous 
or  convincing. 

But  it  is  something  of  this  kind  of 
display  which  is  furnished  by  the  death- 
bed of  Joseph.  We  do  not  precisely 
mean  to  speak  of  this  death-bed,  as 
though  it  presented  the  same  facts  as 
that  of  a  Christian,  who,  with  his  eye 
firmly  fixed  on  the  glories  of  heaven,  is 
almost  impatient  to  break  away  from  the 
possessions  of  earth.  Joseph  lived  when 
there  were  yet  but  dim  notices  of  a 
world  beyond  the  grave,  and  we  may  not 
too  confidently  assume  his  acquaintance 
with  a  state  of  everlasting  happiness. 
But  there  was  every  thing  to  make 
Joseph  desire  the  settling  his  children 
and  brethren  pemanently  in  Egypt ;  so 
that  he  had  somewhat  of  the  same  diffi- 
culty to  overcome  in  contemplating  their 
removal,  as  the  man  who  has  to  resign 
great  present  advantages,  that  he  may 
enter  on  those  promised  in  another  state 
of  being.  The  scene  indeed  soon 
changed :  there  arose  another  king 
"  who  knew  not  Joseph,"  and  oppression 
weighed  down  the  children  of  Israel. 
Had  this  change  occurred  before  Joseph 
died,  there  would  have  been  compara- 
tively nothing  striking  in  his  making 
mention  of  the  departure  of  his  posterity, 
and  showing  that  it  occupied  his  last 
thoughts  upon  earth.  It  would  then  have 
been  quite  natural  that  he  should  have 
desired  this  departure,  and  pointed  out, 
with  his  dying  breath,  the  promise  which 
ensured  it,  as  the  most  precious  of  the 
legacies  which  he  had  to  bequeath. 

But  when  Joseph  died,  he  was  at  the 
very  summit  of  prosperity,  scarcely 
second  to  the  monarch  on  the  throne, 
with  a  vast  inheritance  of  honor  and 
wealth  to  transmit  to  his  children.  He 
had,  moreover,  established  his  brethren 
in  the  land  ;  so  that  he,  who  had  been 
brought  into  Egypt  a  captive  and  an 
exile,  saw  himself  at  the  head  of  a  nu- 
merous tribe,  which  seemed  growing  to 
a  power  which  scarce  another  could  rival. 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON   HIS  DEATH-BED. 


I  know  what,  in  such  a  case,  would 
have  been  the  dictate  of  human  policy 
and  ambition.  I  know  what  the  dying 
man  would  have  said,  had  he  known 
nothing,  or  thought  nothing,  of  the  de- 
clarations of  God,  in  respect  of  his 
family.  He  would  have  advised  that 
the  colony  so  successfully  planted,  should 
studiously  avoid  the  uprooting  itself  from 
so  congenial  a  soil,  and  take  all  possible 
pains  to  deepen  and  strengthen  its  hold. 
He  would  have  contrasted  the  mean 
estate  of  his  race,  whilst  they  sojourned 
in  Canaan,  with  the  wealth  and  greatness 
acquired  in  Egypt,  and  have  argued, 
from  the  comparison,  that  the  true  wis- 
dom would  be  to  remain  where  they 
were,  rather  than  to  return  to  the  home 
of  their  fathers.  You  have  only  to  think 
of  Joseph  as  having  risen  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  condition;  as  the  founder, 
to  all  appearance,  of  a  mighty  dynasty, 
of  a  family  possessed  of  almost  regal 
power;  and  you  will  readily  admit  that 
the  thoughts  most  likely  to  have  occupied 
his  mind  were  thoughts  of  the  future  for- 
tunes of  his  house,  fortunes  of  which  he 
might  augur  well  if  his  children  continued 
in  Egypt,  but  which  would  be  altogeth- 
er perilled  by  their  quitting  that  country. 

And  had  there  not  been  a  higher 
principle  in  Joseph  than  that  of  world- 
ly policy  or  ambition  ;  had  he  been  mere- 
ly a  leader  who  sought  aggrandizement 
and  distinction  for  himself  and  his  pos- 
terity ;  it  is  not  credible  that  his  dying 
words  would  have  been  those  which 
were  calculated  to  unsettle  his  tribe,  and 
to  lead  their  thoughts  from  the  land 
where  they  were  most  likely  to  be  great. 
For  Joseph  might,  at  the  least,  have  kept 
silence  in  regard  of  the  predicted  change 
of  residence  :  if,  with  the  consciousness 
that  God  had  spoken  of  a  going  back  to 
Canaan,  he  could  not  have  distinctly 
advised  the  settling  in  Egypt,  yet  whilst 
there  seemed  so  much  to  recommend 
the  remaining  where  they  were,  he  might 
have  abstained  from  speaking  to  his 
children  of  their  being  removed. 

But  Joseph  was  something  more  than 
the  founder  of  a  powerful  line  ;  and  the 
feelings  which  actuated  him  were  not 
those  of  policy  and  ambition.  Joseph 
was  a  man  who  feared  the  Lord,  and 
with  whom  the  word  of  the  Most  High 
prevailed  against  all  dictates  of  carnal 
wisdom  or  desire.  It  was  nothing  to 
Joseph  that  he  had  wonderfully  attain- 

VOL.  II. 


ed  to  lordship  over  Egypt,  and  that  now, 
in  quitting  the  world,  he  seemed  to 
have  that  lordship  to  hand  down  to  his 
children.  He  knew  that  God  had  re- 
vealed to  his  fathers  a  purpose  of  giv- 
ing another  laud  to  them  and  to  their 
seed  ;  and  that  it  was  not  in  Egypt,  fair 
and  fertile  though  it  was,  that  he  design- 
ed to  carry  on  the  mysterious  dispensa- 
tion which  should  issue  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  world.  And  therefore  were 
Joseph's  thoughts  on  Canaan  rather 
than  on  Egypt ;  on  Canaan,  in  which  as 
yet  his  family  possessed  nothing  but  a 
burial-place,  rather  than  on  Egypt,  where 
already  they  were  masters  of  houses 
and  lands.  Oh,  my  brethren,  before  you 
pronounce  that  there  was  no  great  trial 
or  display  of  faith,  in  Joseph's  making 
mention,  under  such  circumstances,  of 
the  departure  of  the  Israelites,  consider 
the  difficulty,  experienced  by  yourselves, 
in  preferring  what  is  future  to  what  is 
present,  in  giving  up  a  good,  of  which 
you  have  the  possession,  for  another  of 
which  you  have  only  the  promise.  For 
it  was  this  which  Joseph  had  to  do:  and 
that,  moreover,  at  the  least  in  as  great 
a  degree  as  it  ever  imposed  upon  us. 
You  know  very  well  that  you  find  it 
hard  to  make  up  the  mind  to  a  separa- 
tion from  objects,  sought  perhaps  with 
eagerness,  and  obtained  with  difficulty  ; 
though  you  profess  to  believe,  that  on 
passing  away  from  earthly  possessions, 
you  are  to  enter  upon  others  a  thousand- 
fold more  desirable.  And  you  would 
perhaps  find  it  yet  harder,  to  make  dis- 
tinct arrangements  for  the  destruction 
of  the  fabric  which  your  whole  life  had 
been  occupied  in  perfecting,  and  which, 
after  long  trial  and  struggle,  seemed 
complete  in  every  part,  just  because 
there  was  a  saying,  referring  to  a  yet 
remote  time,  which  seemed  to  pledge 
God  to  the  building  up  that  fabric  in 
some  remote  place. 

But  this  was  exactly  the  task  assign- 
ed to  Joseph  on  his  death-bed  ;  and  the 
more  you  suppose  that  the  patriarch 
had  but  little  knowledge  of  heaven  and 
its  joys,  the  more  surprising  do  you 
make  it,  that  he  should  have  endanger-, 
ed,  on  the  strength  of  the  Divine  word, 
the  temporal  prosperity  of  his  tribe. 
For,  where  eternal  sanctions  were  but 
dimly  revealed,  temporal  considerations 
must  have  had  great  weight ;  and  the 
dying  leader,  who  could  hardly  speak 
2 


10 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS    DEATH-BED. 


of  afflictions  as  leading  to  glory,  would 
be  strongly  moved  to  the  hiding  afflic- 
tions, to  the  leaving  them,  at  least,  to  be 
found  out  by  experience.  But  Joseph 
was  too  much  penetrated  by  confidence 
in  the  declaration  of  God,  to  allow  of 
Ins  conferring  with  flesh  and  blood,  or 
being  deterred  by  probable  conse<| uni- 
ces. It  is  a  fine,  a  noble  scene,  which 
is  brought  before  us  by  the  simple  re- 
cord of  the  historian  ;  and  I  call  upon 
you  to  behold  it,  that  you  may  learn 
what  faith  can  do  against  the  promptings 
of  nature,  the  suggestions  of  suspicion, 
and  the  dictates  of  pride.  I  know  what 
would  be  likely  to  be  the  uppermost 
feelings  in  that  expiring  man,  who, 
amid  all  the  insignia  of  authority  and 
wealth,  is  bidding  farewell  to  brethren 
and  children.  I  know  what  he  might 
be  expected  to  do  and  to  say.  His  wast- 
ed features  might  be  lit  up  with  a  smile 
of  exultation,  as  he  surveyed  the  tokens 
of  almost  regal  state;  and  ho  might  say 
to  those  around,  "  Behold  the  glory  to 
which  I  have  raised  you,  and  which  I 
bequeath  to  you  and  your  posterity. 
It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  this  glory 
decay  :  the  best  of  all  Egypt  is  yours, 
if  you  do  not,  through  indolence  or  love 
of  change,  suffer  that  it  be  wrested  from 
your  hold.  I  have  made,  I  leave  you 
great — great  as  chieftains  in  an  adopted 
country,  forsake  not  that  country,  and 
your  greatness  may  be  as  permanent  as 
it  is  dazzling."  But  nothing  of  this 
kind  proceeds  from  the  dying  man's  lips. 
He  speaks  only  of  the  abandonment  of 
all  the  glory  and  greatness  ;  of  an  aban- 
donment which  might  perhaps  not  be 
distant  ;  for  he  gives  directions  as  to  his 
burial  in  some  unpossessed  land.  In- 
terpret or  paraphrase  his  last  words,  and 
they  are  as  though  he  had  said,  '-Child- 
ren and  brethren,  be  not  deceived  by 
your  present  prosperity  ;  this  is  not  your 
home;  it  is  not  here,  notwithstanding 
the  appearances,  that  God  wills  to  sepa- 
rate and  consecrate  you  to  himself.  Ve 
are  the  descendants  of  Abraham  ;  and 
Egypt,  with  its  idols,  is  no  resting-place 
fir  such.  Vrnmsi  be  ever  on  the  alert, 
expecting  the  signal  of  departure  from 
aland,  whose  treasures  and  glories  are 
but  likely  to  detain  you  from  the  high 
calling  designed  for  you  by  God.  Settle 
not  then  yourselves,  but  be  ye  always 
ingers  ;  strangers  where  you  seem 
firmly  established,  and  where,  by  a  mar- 


vellous concurrence  of  events,  you  have 
risen  to  dominion." 

Such,  we  say,  are  virtually  the  utter- 
ances of  the  expiring  patriarch.  And 
when  thou  think  that,  by  these  utter- 
ances, he  was  taking  the  most  effectual 
way  of  destroying  the  structure  so  sur- 
prisingly reared,  and  on  which  it  were 
incredible  that  he  did  not  himself  gaze 
with  amazement  and  delight;  that  he 
was  detaching  those  whom  he  loved 
from  all  which,  on  human  calculation, 
was  most  fitted  to  uphold  them  in  glo- 
ry and  power — oh,  you  may  tell  me  of 
other  demonstrations  and  workings  of 
that  principle,  by  which  servants  of 
the  Lord  have  "  subdued  kingdoms, 
wrought  righteousness,  obtained  pro- 
mises, slopped  the  mouths  of  lions  ;"  but 
I  can  see  that  nothing  short  of  this  prin- 
ciple, ay,  and  of  this  principle  in  a  very 
high  degree,  could  have  moved  the  dy- 
ing man  to  such  words  as  he  spoke  ; 
and  I  assent,  in  all  its  breadth,  to  the 
statement  of  St.  Paul,  that  it  was  "  by 
faith "  that  "  Joseph,  when  he  died, 
made  mention  of  the  departing  of  the 
children  of  Israel." 

But  we  have  not  yet  spoken  of  Jo- 
seph's giving  "  commandment  concern- 
ing his  bones  ;"  and  this  is  far  too  me- 
morable a  circumstance  to  be  passed 
over  without  special  comment.  We  must 
refer  to  the  Book  of  Genesis,  in  order 
to  see  what  the  commandment  was. 
There  you  read,  "  And  Joseph  took  an 
oath  of  the  children  of  Israel,  saying, 
God  will  surely  visit  you,  and  ye  shall 
carry  up  my  bones  from  hence."  The 
oath  was  remembered  and  kept;  for  it 
is  expressly  recorded,  in  the  account  Of 
the  departure  of  the  Israelites  from 
Egypt,  "  And  Moses  took  the  bones  of 
Joseph  with  him."  Neither  were  these 
bones  neglected  in  the  wilderness  :  they 
must  have  been  religiously  preserved 
during  all  the  wanderings  of  the  people; 
for  you  read  in  the  Book  of  Joshua, 
"  And  the  bones  of  Joseph,  which  the 
children  of  Israel  brought  up  out  of 
Egypt,  buried  they  in  Shechem." 

It  appears  from  these  historical  no- 
tices, when  joined  with  the  reference 
made  by  St.  Paul  in  our  text,  that  great 
importance  is  attached  by  inspired  wri- 
ters to  the  fact  of  Joseph's  giving  com- 
mandment concerning  his  bones.  And 
the  fact  certainly  deserves  the  being 
carefully  pondered,  though  you  may  have 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON   HIS   DEATH-BED. 


11 


been  used  to  pass  it  over  with  but  little 
attention.  It  would  seem  that  Joseph 
was  never  buried  in  Egypt;  for,  after 
mentioning  the  oath  which  he  took  of 
his  brethren,  the  Book  of  Genesis  con- 
cludes with  saying,  "  So  Joseph  died, 
being  an  hundred  and  ten  years  old  :  and 
they  embalmed  him,  and  he  was  put  in 
a  coffin  in  Egypt."  When  you  connect 
this  statement  with  his  dying  injunction, 
and  with  the  fact,  that,  though  the  Is- 
raelites were  thurst  out  in  haste  from 
the  land,  they  carried  with  them  the  re- 
mains of  the  patriarch,  you  can  hardly 
doubt  that  the  body  of  Joseph,  when 
embalmed,  was  kept  unburied  amongst 
his  people,  and  that  its  being  so  kept 
was  included  in  his  parting  injunction. 
And  this  is  the  more  remarkable,  inas- 
much as  no  reason  can  be  given  why 
Joseph,  had  he  wished  it,  might  not  at 
once  have  been  buried  in  Canaan.  When 
one  reads  of  his  giving  "  commandment 
concerning  his  bones,"  the  obvious  feel- 
ing is,  that,  with  that  desire  which  seems 
instinctive  to  man,  the  desire  that  our 
dust  should  mingle  with  that  of  those 
whom  we  have  loved  and  lost,  Joseph 
gave  directions  for  his  being  laid  in  the 
same  grave  with  his  father  and  mother. 
But  had  this  been  all,  why  was  not  his  bo- 
dy at  once  carried  into  Canaan  ]  When 
Jacob  died,  "  all  the  servants  of  Phara- 
oh, the  elders  of  his  house,  and  all  the 
elders  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  all  the 
house  of  Joseph,  and  his  brethren,  and 
his  father's  house,"  went  up,  and  inter- 
red him,  according  to  his  wish,  "  in  the 
cave  of  the  field  of  Machpelah."  So 
vast  was  the  funeral  pomp,  that,  "  when 
the  inhabitants  of  the  land,  the  Canaan- 
ites,  saw  the  mourning  in  the  floor  of 
Atad,  they  said,  This  is  a  grievous 
mourning  to  the  Egyptians  :  wherefore 
the  name  of  it  was  called  Abelmizraim, 
which  is  beyond  Jordan."  Surely,  if 
such  were  the  interment  of  Jacob,  that 
of  Joseph  would  not  have  been  less 
honored  :  had  he  commanded  his  bre- 
thren, as  he  had  been  commanded  by 
his  father,  "  In  my  grave  which  I  have 
digged  for  me  in  the  land  of  Canaan, 
there  shalt  thou  bury  me,"  we  may  not 
doubt  that  the  Egyptians  would  not  on- 
ly have  permitted  the  funeral,  but  have 
graced  his  obsequies  with  all  that  could 
give  splendor  to  death. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  it   was  not 
merely  interment  in  Canaan  which  Jo- 


seph desired  :  it  was  expressly  his  wish, 
that  the  interment  should  be  deferred 
until  the  children  of  Israel  departed 
from  Egpyt,  and  that  then  should  his 
bones  be  carried  up  to  the  land  which 
had  been  promised  to  Abraham.  In 
short,  the  "commandment  concerning 
his  bones,"  which  St.  Paul  adduces  in 
proof  of  Joseph's  faith,  would  seem  to 
have  been  a  commandment  that  his  bones 
should  lie  unburied  whilst  the  Israelites 
were  in  Egypt,  and  be  buried  when  they 
took  possession  of  Canaan.  But  what 
was  there  in  this  which  specially  proved 
faith  1  What  evidence  does  the  com- 
mandment which  Joseph  gave  "  concern- 
ing his  bones,"  add  to  that  furnished  by 
the  mention  which  he  made  "of  the  de- 
parting of  the  children  of  Israel  ] "  Here 
is  a  point  worthy  of  all  your  attention, 
though  there  will  be  no  great  difficulty 
in  finding  a  satisfactory  answer. 

Why,  think  ye,  did  Joseph  wish  to  lie 
unburied  in  the  midst  of  his  people,  ex- 
cept that  his  bones  might  perpetually 
preach  to  them,  that  Egypt  was  not  to 
be  their  home,  but  must  be  abandoned 
for  Canaan  ]  The  very  lesson  which, 
with  his  dying  breath,  he  labored  to 
enforce — the  lesson,  that  they  were  to 
be  expecting  to  depart  from  the  coun- 
try which  had  received  and  sustained 
them,  this  lesson  he  longed  to  enforce 
after  death,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that  his 
brethren  and  children  would  be  likely 
to  forget  it.  But  how  shall  he  accom- 
plish this  ?  What  means  are  in  his 
power  of  continuing  to  preach  a  great 
truth,  when  he  shall  have  been  actually 
withdrawn  out  of  life  ]  Let  his  bones 
lie  unburied,  unburied  because  they  wait 
the  being  carried  up  to  Canaan,  and  will 
there  not  be  an  abiding  memento  to  the 
Israelites,  a  standing  remembrancer, 
that,  sooner  or  later,  the  Lord  will  effect 
their  removal,  and  transplant  them  to 
the  land  which  He  promised  to  their 
fathers  1  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  inter- 
pret the  commandment  of  Joseph.  You 
have  heard  of  the  preaching  of  a  spectre  : 
the  spirit  that  passed  before  the  face  of 
Eliphaz,  and  caused  the  hair  of  his  flesh 
to  stand  up,  came  from  the  invisible 
world  to  give  emphasis,  as  well  as  utter- 
ance, to  the  question,  "  Shall  mortal  man 
be  more  just  than  God  ]  shall  a  man  be 
more  just  than  his  Maker  ]  "  And  here 
you  have,  not  the  preaching  of  a  spectre, 
but  the    preaching  of  a  skeleton  :    the 


la 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  niS  DEATH-BED. 


bones  of  Joseph  are  converted  into  an 
orator,  and  make  "  mention  of  the  de- 
parting  of  the  children  of  Israel."     The 

patriarch  could  no  longer  warn  and 
command  his  brethren  and  descendants 
with  the  voice  ofa  living  man:  his  tongue 

was  mute  in  death  :  but  there  was  elo- 
quence in  liis  sepulchred  limbs.  Where- 
fore had  be  not  been  gathered  to  his 
fathers  I  what  meant  this  strange  spectacle 
in  the  midst  of  a  people,  the  spectacle 
nf  a  corpse  to  which  a  grave  seemed 
denied,  and  which  was  kept  as  though  by 
Borne  wild  mysterious  spell,  from  going 
down  with  others  to  the  chambers  of 
death  1  It  was  a  dead  thing,  which 
nevertheless  appeared  reluctant  to  die: 
it  seemed  to  haunt  the  earth  in  its  life- 
lessness,  as  though  it  had  not  finished 
the  office  for  which  it  had  been  born,  as 
though  it  had  yet  some  awful  duty  to 
perform,  ere  it  could  be  suffered  to  mingle 
quietly  with  the  dust  whence  it  sprung. 
And  since  it  could  not  fail  to  be  known 
for  what  purpose  the  body  of  one,  so 
honored  and  revered,  lay  unburied  year 
after  year — even  for  that  of  being  re- 
moved by  the  Israelites,  when  God  should 
visit  them,  and  transplant  them  from 
Egypt, — did  not  Joseph's  bones  perpetu- 
ally repeat  his  dying  utterances  1  and 
coidd  any  thing  better  have  been  devised 
to  keep  up  the  remembrance  of  what  his 
last  words  had  taught,  than  this  his  sub- 
sistence as  a  skeleton,  when  he  had  long 
ceased  to  be  numbered  with  the  living '{ 
There  can  hardly  then  be  two  opinions, 
that  the  bones  of  Joseph,  thus  reserved 
for  interment  in  Canaan,  became  virtu- 
ally a  preacher  to  the  people  of  the  very 
truth  which  he  had  died  in  the  effort  to 
enforce.  But  what  additional  evidence 
of  his  faith  was  there  in  his  giving  "  com- 
mandment concerning  his  bones  !  "  The 
very  greatest.  It  is  one  thing  to  preach 
a  doctrine  during  life  :  it  is  another  to 
be  eager  to  preach  it  after  death.  See 
ye  not  this  'I  see  ye  not  that  the  faith, 
which  might  be  strong  enough  to  urge  to 
the  advocacy  of  an  opinion  now,  might  not 
be  strong  enough  to  urge  to  the  taking 
measures  for  its  advocacy  a  hundred 
years  hence  1  A  man  might  have  his 
misgivings  :  he  might  say  to  himself, 
"  Perhaps,  when  I  am  dead,  something 
will  arise  to  prove  me  in  the  wrong ; 
why  then  should  I  strive  to  keep  the 
opinion  from  being  forgotten,  when 
events  will  have  transpired  to  show  it 


erroneous  1  If  the  opinion  be  true, 
others  will  arise  to  maintain  it ;  if  false, 
why  should  my  belief  in  it  be  made, 
through  mine  own  act,  to  survive  its 
being  exploded  ]  Better  surely  for  me 
to  teach  what  I  think  true  whilst  I  live, 
but  not  to  stake  my  credit,  when  dead, 
on  propositions  which  time  may  dis- 
prove." 

We  are  thus  persuaded,  that,  if  you 
consider  attentively,  you  cannot  fail  to 
allow  it  a  strong  additional  evidence  of 
a  man's  belief  in  a  tenet,  when,  over  and 
above  proclaiming  it  whilst  he  lives,  he 
labors  to  bring  about  that  he  may  pro- 
claim it  when  dead.  I  would  preach,  if 
I  might,  after  death.  I  would  not  be 
silent,  if  I  knew  how  to  speak,  when  the 
grave  shall  have  received  me,  and  an- 
other shall  stand  to  minister  in  my  place. 
I  would  still  repeat  the  truths  which  I 
now  strive  habitually  to  press  on  men's 
attention.  But  why  1  Because  I  am 
confident  of  their  being  truths  :  because 
I  have  no  misgivings  ;  because  I  have 
not  even  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion,  that, 
happen  what  may,  Christianity  can  be 
proved  false,  and  the  Bible  a  fiction.  If 
I  had,  I  should  be  proportionally  reluc- 
tant to  the  preaching  after  death ;  my 
anxiety  to  utter  truth  would  make  me 
shrink  from  the  possibility  of  being 
found  hereafter  giving  utterance  to 
falsehood. 

And  to  show  this  more  clearly  by  a 
particular  instance,  which  shall  be  nearly 
parallel  to  that  in  our  text.  There  are 
declarations  in  the  Bible,  that  the  Lord, 
whom  the  heavens  have  received,  shall 
come  forth  personally,*in  glory  and  great 
majesty,  and  revisit  this  earth  to  claim 
its  dominion.  There  are  also  predictions 
as  to  the  time  of  this  splendid  manifesta- 
tion, though  not  so  explicit  but  that  men 
may  widely  differ  as  to  when  it  shall  be. 
Suppose  that  by  the  study  of  unfulfilled 
prophecy,  I  satisfy  myself  as  to  the  date 
of  Christ's  coming,  fixing  it  to  seventy, 
or  eighty,  or  a  hundred  years  hence. 
Suppose  that,  so  long  as  I  live,  I  keep 
asserting  to  you  this  date,  you  will  con- 
clude that  I  believe  it  myself.  Suppose 
that,  when  I  come  to  die,  I  gather  you 
around  me,  and  solemnly  declare  that 
at  the  said  time  the  Lord  will  reappear, 
you  will  be  more  than  ever  convinced  of 
my  belief:  dying  men  have  little  interest 
in  deceiving;  and  though  you  may  not 
be  not  a  jot  the  more  persuaded,  that 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED. 


13 


my  opinion  is  true,  there  will  be  scarcely 
room  for  doubt  as  to  my  sincerity  in 
holding  it.  But  suppose  something 
more  :  suppose  that,  as  I  die,  I  give  di- 
rections for  the  erectiug  of  a  monument, 
to  be  reared  in  the  very  scene  of  my 
labors,  and  inscribed  with  the  very  date 
on  which  I  had  so  resolutely  fixed.  I 
should  thus  be  taking  all  possible  pains 
to  keep  my  opinion  before  your  eyes, 
and  those  of  your  children ;  to  keep  it, 
when  things  might  have  occurred  to 
prove  it  false,  when  it  might  be  nothing 
but  a  register  of  my  ignorance  and  mis- 
take :  and  would  not  this  be  the  crown- 
ing, the  unsurpassable  evidence  of  the 
strength  of  my  faith]  If  T  had  the 
slightest  suspicion,  or  fear,  that  the 
event  might  prove  me  wrong,  would  I 
ever  take  measures  for  identifying  my 
name  with  error  and  delusion  ] 

And  this  just  illustrates  the  case  of 
Joseph's  giving  "commandment  concern- 
ing his  bones."  There  was  no  proof, 
in  his  giving  this  commandment,  that  the 
children  of  Israel  would  depart  out  of 
Egypt,  even  as  there  would  be  none  in 
my  directions  for  a  monument,  that  the 
Redeemer  would  appear  at  the  specified 
time.  But  there  was  a  very  strong  proof, 
that  Joseph  believed  that  the  Israelites 
would  depart  out  of  Egypt,  just  as  there 
would  be  that  I  believed  that  Christ 
would  come  on  the  day  which  I  had 
named.  And  it  is  simply  in  illustration 
of  the  power  of  Joseph's  faith,  that  St. 
Paul  quotes  his  giving  "  commandment 
concerning  his  bones."  The  illustration  is 
therefore  most  appropriate.  There  were 
long  years — as  probably  Joseph  was 
aware — years  of  wo  and  oppression,  to 
pass  over  Israel  ere  there  would  come  that 
visitation  of  the  Lord,  which  his  dying 
words  affirmed.  And  during  this  dreary 
period  it  would  seem  to  the  Israelites  as 
though  they  were  forgotten  of  their  God, 
as  though  his  promise  had  come  utterly 
to  an  end,  and  they  were  doomed  to  re- 
main in  the  house  of  bondage  for  ever. 
What,  then,  more  likely  than  that  what- 
ever reminded  them  of  the  alleged  pur- 
pose of  God  would  be  treated  by  them 
with  loathing  and  scorn  ;  and  that,  wheth- 
er it  were  the  dead  or  the  living  who  pre- 
dicted their  departure,  the  mention  would 
excite  only  hatred  and  derision  ]  Yet 
Joseph  was  not  to  be  moved  by  any  of 
this  likelihood.  Why  not]  Because  his 
faith  was  too  strong  :  he  was  too  confi- 


dent in  God's  word  to  allow  of  his  taking 
into  account  the  possibility  of  of  its  fail- 
ure. And  therefore  he  did  not  hesitate 
to  convert  his  bones  into  a  perpetual 
preacher,  or  moument,  of  that  word.  "  I 
shall  not  leave  you,"  he  seems  to  say  to 
his  weeping  kinsmen.  "  I  die  ;  but  this 
worn  body  has  a  high  duty  to  accomplish, 
ere  it  may  enjoy  the  still  slumber  of  the 
grave.  I  leave  it  to  preach  to  you  that 
God  will  yet  bring  you  up  from  Egypt 
'  with  a  mighty  hand,  and  a  stretched  out 
arm.'  You,  or  your  children,  may  be 
disposed  to  insult  my  remains,  when  op- 
pression shall  grow,  and  deliverance  be 
deferred.  But  I  know  how  all  this  will 
terminate.  Mine  eye,  over  which  the  film 
of  death  is  fast  gathering,  is  on  a  mighty 
procession,  the  procession  of  thousands, 
and  tens  of  thousands,  marching  to  the 
inheritance  which  God  promised  unto 
Abraham  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  this  pro- 
cession shall  these  bones  be  triumphantly 
carried,  their  office  done,  to  share  with 
you  the  land  of  Canaan."  Oh  !  who  can 
fail  to  see  that  Joseph  thus  furnished  a 
far  stronger  proof  of  trust  in  God's  word 
than  is  found  in  his  mere  assertion  of 
what  that  word  declared  1  Who  can 
deny  that  St.  Paul  added  vastly  to  the  il- 
lustration of  the  power  of  faith,  when,  af- 
ter stating  that  "by  faith"  Joseph,  when 
he  died,  "  made  mention  of  the  departing 
of  the  children  of  Israel,"  he  subjoined, 
"and  gave  commandment  concerning  his 
bones  1" 

But  we  ought  not  to  fail  to  observe, 
before  we  quit  the  death-bed  of  Joseph, 
that,  forasmuch  as  unquestionably  the 
Spirit  of  God  actuated  the  expiring  pa- 
triarch, and  perhaps  dictated  his  words, 
the  commandment  as  to  his  bones  may 
have  been  designed  to  intimate,  or  illus- 
trate, the  truth  of  a  resurrection.  If  you 
suppose,  as  you  reasonably  may,  that  they 
who  surrounded  the  dying  man  consider- 
ed his  utterances  as  suggested  by  God, 
you  will  believe  that  they  pondered  them 
as  fraught  with  information,  conveying, 
probably,  notices  upon  points  which  had 
been  but  dimly,  if  at  all,  revealed.  We 
need  hardly  observe  to  you,  that,  so  far 
as  the  evidence  of  faith  is  concerned,  it 
would  be  most  conspicuous  and  convinc- 
ing, on  the  supposition  that  Joseph  had 
respect  to  the  resurrection  of  his  body. 
It  may  have  been  so.  Why  was  he  un- 
willing that  his  bones  should  rest  in 
Egypt?     Unwilling  he  evidently  was; 


14 


THE  FAITH  OF  JOSEPH  ON  HIS  DEATH-BED. 


for,  allowing  liim  to  have  desired  their 
remaining  unburied  that  they  might  re- 
mind the  Esraelites  of  their  predicted  de- 
parture, this  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
also  have  given  directions  for  their  being 
carried  into  Canaan.  By  remaining  un- 
buried  he  would  have  shown  an  anxiety 
to  preach  a  great  fact  to  Ins  descendants  ; 
but,  by  further  desiring  that,  when  this 
office  "was  done,  he  might  be  buried  in 
the  promised  land,  he  evinced  a  care  as 
to  his  place  of  sepulture,  or  showed  that 
ii  was  not  indifferent  to  him  what  became 
of  his  body. 

Wherefore,  then,  we  again  ask,  was  he 
unwilling  to  be  buried  in  Egypt  1  What 
had  he  to  do  with  choosing  where  his 
bones  should  be  laid,  and  that,  too,  on  a 
far  distant  day  1  I  cannot  but  infer,  from 
this  anxiety  of  Joseph  in  regard  to  his 
grave,  that  he  did  not  consider  the  body 
as  a  thing  to  be  thrown  aside  so  soon  as 
the  vital  principle  were  extinct.  He  felt 
that  Ins  dead  body  might  live  to  admon- 
ish his  countrymen  ;  but  he  must  also 
have  felt  that,  even  when  that  office  were 
done,  it  was  not  to  be  treated  as  of  no 
further  worth.  It  matters  not  whether 
it  arise  from  a  kind  of  natural  instiuct,  or 
from  the  immediate  suggestion  of  the 
Spirit  of  God — in  all  cases,  care  as  to 
what  becomes  of  the  body,  is  evidence 
of  a  consciousness  that  the  body  is  not 
finally  to  perish  at  death.  He  who  shows 
anxiety  as  to  the  treatment  of  his  remains 
shows  something  of  a  belief,  whether  he 
confess  it  or  not,  that  these  remains  are 
reserved  for  other  purposes  and  scenes. 
I  can  hardly  think  that  Joseph  believed 
that  his  body  would  never  live  again  :  he 
would  scarcely  have  provided  it  a  sepul- 
chre in  Canaan,  if  persuaded  that,  in  dy- 
ing, it  would  be  finally  destroyed.  His 
bones  might  as  well  have  rested  in  Egypt, 
amongst  those  of  the  idolater  and  strang- 
er, had  they  never  been  appointed,  or  had 
he  not  imagined  them  appointed,  to  the 
being  brought  up  from  the  dust  and  again 
sinewed  with  life.  But  on  the  supposition 
of  a  belief,  or  even  the  faintest  conjec- 
ture, of  a  resurrection,  we  seem  to  un- 
derstand why  the  dying  patriarch  longed 
to  sleep  in  the  promised  land.  "  I  will 
not  leave,"  he  seems  to  say,  "this  body 
to  be  disregarded,  and  trampled  on,  as 
though  it  were  merely  that  of  an  animal 
whose  existence  wholly  terminates  at 
death.  That  which  God  takes  care  of, 
reserving  it  for  another  life,  it  becomes 


not  man  to  despise,  as  though  undeserv- 
ing a  thought.  And  though  the  eye  of 
the  Almighty  would  be  on  my  dust  in 
Egpyt,  as  in  Canaan,  yet  would  I  rather 
rest  with  the  righteous  than  with  the 
wicked  in  the  grave,  with  my  fathers  and 
my  kinsmen,  than  with  the  foreigner  and 
the  enemy.  If  I  am  to  start  from  long 
and  dark  slumbers,  let  those  who  wake 
with  me  be  those  whom  I  have  loved, 
and  who  are  to  share  with  me  the  un- 
known existence." 

Such,  we  say,  is  an  interpretation 
which  might  fairly  be  put  on  Joseph's 
giving  "commandment  concerning  his 
bones."  There  may  have  floated  before 
him  visions  of  the  grave  giving  up  its  dead. 
The  yearnings  of  his  parting  spirit  after 
Canaan  ;  the  longing  for  interment  by 
the  side  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob ; 
all  may  have  risen  from  an  indistinct 
thought  that  he  was  destined  to  live 
again  ;  all  may  mark  that,  though  life 
and  immortality  were  not  then  brought 
to  light,  dim  and  spectral  images  flitted 
to  and  fro,  shadowy  forms,  as  of  the  de- 
cayed and  the  dead,  mysteriously  recon- 
structed and  reanimated.  And  if  they 
who  stood  around  Joseph  recognized,  as 
they  must  have  done  in  the  last  words 
of  Jacob,  the  dictates  of  the  Almighty 
himself,  then  may  we  say  that  the 
"commandment  concerning  his  bones" 
amounted  to  a  Divine  intimation  of  the 
truth  of  a  resurrection.  Whatever  show- 
ed that  God  willed  that  the  dead  body 
should  be  cared  for,  that  he  would  not 
have  it  thrown  aside  as  utterly  done  with, 
went  also  to  the  showing  that  the  body 
was  still  to  be  of  use,  and  that,  there- 
fore, its  resurrection  was  designed. 
Hence,  it  may  be  that  from  the  death- 
bed of  Joseph  sprang,  in  a  measure, 
that  persuasion  of  a  resurrection,  which 
gradually  wrought  itself  into  the  creed 
of  the  children  of  Israel.  His  "  com- 
mandment concerning  his  bones,"  kept 
so  long  in  mind,  and  associated  with  a 
great  crisis  in  the  national  history,  may 
have  produced  attention,  not  only  to 
the  departure  from  Egypt,  but  to  a  far 
mightier  departure — the  departure  of 
myriads  from  the  sepulchres  of  the  earth, 
after  long  enthralment  under  a  sterner 
than  Pharaoh.  I  feel  as  if  it  were  to  at- 
tach surprising  interest  to  Joseph  s  last 
words,  to  suppose  that  they  showed  his 
own  thought,  and  gave  notice  to  others, 
of  the  resurrection  of  the  body.     This 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


15 


makes  his  death-bed  that  almost  of  a 
Christian.  It  is  not  a  Christian  thing,  to 
die  manifesting  indifference  as  to  what  is 
done  with  the  body.  That  body  is  re- 
deemed :  not  a  particle  of  its  dust  but 
was  bought  with  drops  of  Christ's  pre- 
cious blood.  That  body  is  appointed  to 
a  glorious  condition  :  not  a  particle  of  the 
corruptible  but  what  shall  put  on  incor- 
ruption  ;  of  the  mortal  that  shall  not  as- 
sume immortality.  The  Christian  knows 
this  :  it  is  not  the  part  of  a  Christian  to 
seem  unmindful  of  this.  He  may,  there- 
fore, as  he  departs,  speak  of  the  place 
where  he  would  wish  to  be  laid.  "  Let 
me  sleep,"  he  may  say,  "with  my  father 
and  my  mother,  with  my  wife  and  my 


children  :  lay  me  not  here,  in  this  distant 
land,  where  my  dust  cannot  mingle  with 
its  kindred.  I  would  be  chimed  to  my 
grave  by  my  own  village  bell,  and  have 
my  requiem  sung  where  I  was  baptized 
into  Christ."  Marvel  ye  at  such  last 
words  l  Wonder  ye  that  one,  whose 
spirit  is  just  entering  the  separate  state, 
should  have  this  care  for  the  body  which 
he  is  about  to  leave  to  the  worms  1  Nay, 
he  is  a  believer  in  Jesus  as  "  the  Resur- 
rection and  the  Life : "  this  belief 
prompts  his  dying  words  ;  and  it  shall 
have  to  be  said  of  him,  as  of  Joseph,  that 
"by  faith,"  yea,  '  ,by  faith,"  he  "gave 
commandment  concerning  his  bones." 


SERMON   II 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen:  remember  how  he  spake  unto  you,  when  he  was  yet  in  Galilee,  saying,  The  Son  of 
Man  must  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  crucified,  and  the  third  day  rise  again.  And  they 
remembered  his  words." — St.  Luke,  xxiv.  6,  7,  8. 


It  was  a  saying  of  Luther,  and  one 
which  is  often  quoted  amongst  our- 
selves, "  that  the  doctrine  of  justification 
by  faith  is  the  doctrine  of  a  standing  or 
a  falling  church."  The  meaning  of  the 
saying  is,  that  so  vitally  important,  so 
essential  to  the  very  existence  of  a  chris- 
tian community,  is  the  doctrine  of  justi- 
fication by  faith,  that  you  may  always 
judge  whether  a  church  is  in  a  healthful 
or  a  declining  condition,  by  the  tenacity 
with  which  this  doctrine  is  maintained, 
and  the  clearness  with  which  it  is  ex- 
pounded. We  have  no  wish  to  dispute 
the  truth  of  the  saying ;  for  beyond  all 
question,  there  can  be  real  Christianity 
only  where  there  is  a  distinct  recogni- 
tion of  the  fact,  that  "  a  man  is  justified 
by  faith  without  the  deeds  of  the  law." 

But,  nevertheless,  if  we  were  to  fix 


on  any  one  doctrine,  as  furnishing  pre- 
eminently a  test  by  which  to  try  the 
condition  of  a  church,  we  should  be  dis- 
posed to  take  that  of  spiritual  influences, 
rather  than  that  of  justification  by  faith. 
We  cannot  but  think  that  he  who  fails 
to  recognize,  in  all  its  freeness,  that  we 
are  "justified  by  faith,"  must  first  have 
failed  to  recognize,  in  all  humility,  that 
"  we  are  not  sufficient  of  ourselves  to 
think  any  thing,  as  of  ourselves."  It 
would  seem  to  follow,  in  natural  con- 
sequence, from  our  fancying  ourselves 
independent  on  supernatural  teaching, 
that  we  should  fancy  ourselves  capable, 
in  a  measure,  of  contributing  to  our 
justification ;  so  that,  at  all  events,  he 
who  practically  forgets  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  can  alone  guide  into  truth,  is  like- 
ly to  be  soon  landed  in   error   on   the 


16 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


fundamental  points  of  a  sinner's  accept- 
ance. And  whether  or  not  the  doctrine 
of  spiritual  influences  be  the  better  test 
to  apply,  in  attempting  to  determine  the 
condition  of  a  church,  there  can,  at  least, 
be  no  doubt  that  where  piety  is  flourish- 
ing, this  doctrine  will  be  deeply  cherish- 
ed ;  where  declining,  comparatively  neg- 
lected. The  individual  christian  will 
ugrow  in  grace,"  in  proportion  as  he 
depends  on  the  teaching  of  the  Holy- 
Spirit,  and  habituates  himself  to  the  turn- 
ing  to  this  divine  a^ent  for  guidance, 
comfort,  and  instruction  in  righteousness. 
And  any  branch  of  the  Catholic  Church 
will,  in  like  manner,  be  vigorous  and 
fruitful,  in  proportion  as  it  honors  the 
third  Person  in  the  ever-hlessed  Trinity, 
distinctly  recognizing  that  his  influences 
alone  can  make  the  work  of  the  Second 
effectual  to  salvation. 

But  when  we  speak  of  spiritual  influ- 
ence, we  are  far  from  wishing  to  con- 
fine the  expression  to  the  influences  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  as  though  no  other 
spiritual  agency  were  brought  to  bear 
upon  man.  We  desire  to  extend  it  to 
created,  though  invisible,  beings — to  an- 
gels, whether  evil  or  good — believing, 
on  the  authority  of  Scripture,  that  there 
are  such  beings,  and  that  they  continu- 
ally act  on  us  by  a  secret,  but  most  ef- 
ficient, power.  And  where  there  is  a 
tolerahly  distinct  recognition  of  the  per- 
son and  office  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  there 
may  be  a  comparative  forgetfulness,  if 
not  an  actual  denial,  of  angelic  ministra- 
tions ;  and  our  conviction  is,  that  much 
of  comfort  in  religion  is  lost,  and  much 
of  coldness  produced,  through  the  little 
heed  given  to  spiritual  influences,  thus 
more  largely  understood.  It  will  hard- 
ly be  denied  that  the  mass  of  christians 
think  little,  if  at  all,  of  angels;  that  they 
regard  them  as  beings  so  far  removed 
from  companionship  with  ourselves,  that 
discourse  on  their  nature  and  occupation 
must  deserve  the  character  of  unprofit- 
able speculation.  If,  then,  the  preacher 
take  as  his  theme  the  burning  spirits 
which  surround  God's  throne,  he  will 
probably  be  considered  as  adventuring 
upon  mysteries  too  high  for  research, 
whilst  there  is  abundance  of  more  prac- 
tical topics  on  which  he  might  enlarge. 

Vet  it  cannot  have  been  intended  that 
we  should  thus  remain  ignorant  of  an- 
gels :  it  cannot  be  true  that  there  is  no- 
thing to  be  ascertained  in  regard  of  these 


creatures,  or  nothing  which  it  is  for  ouz 
instruction,  or  our  comfort,  to  know. 
There  is  a  petition  in  the  Lord's  Prayer 
which  should  teach  us  better  than  this 
— "  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in 
heaven."  It  must  be  specially  by  an- 
gels that  God's  will  is  done  in  heaven ; 
and  if  we  are  directed  to  take  the  man- 
ner, or  degree,  in  which  angels  do  God's 
will,  as  measuring  that  in  which  we 
should  desire  its  being  done  by  men, 
surely  it  can  neither  be  beyond  our  pow- 
er to  know  any  thing  of  angels,  nor  un- 
important that  we  study  to  be  wise  up  to 
what  is  written  regarding  them  in  the 
Bible.  And,  indeed,  so  far  is  Scrip- 
ture from  leaving  angelic  ministrations 
amongst  obscure,  or  inscrutable,  things, 
that  it  interweaves  it  with  the  most 
encouraging  of  its  promises,  and  thus 
strives,  as  it  were,  to  force  it  upon  us  as  a 
practical  and  personal  truth.  Where  is 
the  christian  that  has  not  been  gladden- 
ed by  words  such  as  these,  "  Because 
thou  hast  made  the  Lord,  who  is  my 
refuge,  even  the  Most  High,  thy  habita- 
tion, there  shall  no  evil  befall  thee, 
neither  shall  any  plague  come  nigh  thy 
dwelling  ]  "  But  of  those  to  whom  these 
words  speak  cheeringly,  how  few,  per- 
haps, give  attention  to  the  following 
verse,  though  evidently  explanatory  of 
the  agency  through  which  the  promise 
shall  be  accomplished!  "for  he  shall 
give  his  angels  charge  over  thee,  to 
keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways." 

And  it  ought  not  to  be  overlooked, 
that,  in  proportion  as  we  lose  sight  of 
the  doctrine,  that  good  angels  are 
"  ministering  spirits,"  influencing  us  for 
righteousness,  we  are  likely  to  forget 
the  power  of  our  great  "  adversary,  the 
devil,"  who,  with  the  hosts  under  his 
guidance,  continually  labors  at  effecting 
our  destruction.  It  can  hardly  be  that 
they,  who  are  keenly  alive  to  their  ex- 
posure to  the  assults  of  malignant,  but 
invisible,  enemies,  should  be  indifferent 
to  the  fact  of  their  having  on  their  side 
the  armies  of  Heaven  :  good  and  evil 
spirits  must  be  considered  as  antagonists 
in  a  struggle  for  ascendency  over  man  ; 
and  there  is,  therefore,  more  than  a  like- 
lihood, that  they  who  think  little  of  their 
friends  in  so  high  a  contest,  will  depre- 
ciate their  foes,  and  thus  more  than  ever 
expose  themselves  to  their  power. 

We  cannot,  then,  put  from  us  the  opin- 
ion that  the  doctrine  of  angelic  ministra- 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


17 


tions  hardly  obtains  its  due  share  of 
attention,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  pressed, 
with  greater  frequency  and  urgency,  by 
the  ministers  of  Christ,  on  those  commit- 
ted to  their  care.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
risk,  that  he  who  sets  himself  to  discourse 
on  those  orders  of  intelligent  being  which 
stretch  upwards  between  God  and  man, 
may  indulge  in  fanciful  speculation,  and 
forget,  amid  the  brilliancies  opened  up 
to  his  imagination,  that  he  is  bound  ex- 
clusively to  seek  the  profit  of  his  hear- 
ers. But  there  is  little  fear  of  his  pass- 
ing the  limits  of  what  is  sober  and  in- 
structive, so  long  as  he  confines  himself 
to  what  is  written  in  Scripture,  and  fixes 
on  certain  prominent  facts  which  lie 
beyond  dispute,  because  explicitly  re- 
vealed. It  is  this  which  we  purpose 
doing  in  our  present  discourse.  We 
wish,  indeed,  to  impress  upon  you  that 
a  spiritual  agency  is  ever  at  work  on 
your  behalf,  understanding  by  spiritual 
agency  not  merely  that  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  to  which  every  other  must  be  ne- 
cessarily subordinate,  but  that  of  those 
orders  of  being  which  are  designated  in 
Scripture  by  the  general  term  "  angels," 
and  which  kept  their  "  first  estate  "  when 
numbers  of  like  nature  with  themselves 
were  cast  out  from  heaven  as  rebels 
against  God.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
we  are  very  anxious  to  advance  nothing 
which  shall  not  have  scriptural  warrant 
for  its  truth,  and  which  shall  not,  more- 
over, present  something  practical  on 
which  you  may  fasten.  Let  us  see, 
then,  whether  the  passage  which  we 
have  taken  as  our  text,  will  not  enable 
us  to  illustrate,  thus  soberly  and  profit- 
ably, the  truth,  that  angels  are  "  minis- 
tering spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  for 
them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation." 

Now  you  will  judge  at  once,  from  this 
introduction  to  our  subject,  that  we  do 
not  purpose  speaking  on  the  fact  of  the 
resurrection  of  Christ,  though  this  fact, 
as  matter  both  of  prophecy  and  history, 
seems  exclusively  treated  of  in  the  words 
of  our  text.  What  we  want  you  to  ob- 
serve is,  that  these  words  were  spoken 
by  two  angels,  who  appeared  to  the 
women  that  were  early  at  the  sepulchre  ; 
for  though  it  is  said  in  the  chapter  before 
us,  "two  men  stood  by  them  in  shining 
garments,"  you  readily  find,  from  acorn 
parison  of  the  Gospels,  that  the  human 
form  was  here  assumed  by  heavenly 
beings  ;  that  they  were  spirits  who,  in 
Vol.  II. 


the  likeness  of  flesh,  accosted  the  women 
as  they  sought  in  vain  for  the  body  of 
Christ.  It  is  not  here  to  be  proved  that 
there  are  such  beings  as  angels;  neither 
have  we  to  show  that  they  are  endowed 
with  great  might ;  for  not  only  is  St. 
Matthew's  description  of  the  apparition 
of  the  men,  that  "the  angel  of  the  Lord 
descended  from  heaven  ;"  but  he  adds, 
"that  his  countenance  was  like  lightning, 
and  his  raiment  white  as  snow :  for  fear 
of  him  the  keepers  did  shake,  and  be- 
came as  dead  men."  But  assuming,  as 
we  safely  may,  the  facts  of  the  ministra- 
tion and  power  of  angels,  there  is  some- 
thing very  remarkable  in  the  circum- 
stance that  the  angels,  in  the  case  now 
before  us,  reminded  the  women  of  some- 
thing which  had  been  said  to  them  by 
Christ,  and  that,  too,  in  a  remote  place, 
"  whilst  he  was  yet  with  them  in  Gali- 
lee." How  came  these  angels  to  be  so 
well  acquainted  with  what  had  been  said 
by  Christ  to  the  women  1  They  speak 
of  it  with  the  greatest  familiarity,  as 
though  they  had  themselves  heard  the 
prediction :  they  call  it  to  the  remem- 
brance of  the  women,  just  as  one  of  you 
might  remind  his  neighbor,  or  friend,  of 
parts  of  a  sermon  at  whose  delivery  both 
had  been  present.  We  do  not,  indeed, 
profess  to  say  that  the  angels  might  not 
have  been  distinctly  informed  as  to  what 
Christ  had  uttered  in  Galilee;  that  they 
might  not  have  been  instructed,  by  im- 
mediate revelation,  as  to  things  which 
had  passed  when  themselves  were  not 
present  to  see  or  to  hear.  But  neither, 
on  the  other  hand,  can  any  one  say  that 
the  angels  did  not  gain  their  knowledge 
from  having  been  actually  amongst  the 
audience  of  Christ ;  whilst  the  supposi- 
tion of  their  having  heard  for  themselves, 
agrees  best  with  the  tone  of  their  address, 
and  is  certainly  in  keeping  with  other 
statements  of  Scripture. 

For  if  we  gather,  from  the  familiar 
manner  in  which  the  angels  quote 
Christ's  sayings  to  the  women,  that  they, 
as  well  as  the  women,  had  been  present 
when  those  sayings  were  uttered,  we 
only  infer — what  may  be  proved  the 
doctrine  of  the  Bible — that  angels  are 
actually,  though  invisibly,  in  the  midst 
of  our  worshipping  assemblies,  witnesses 
of  our  deportment,  and  hearers  of  that 
Gospel  to  which  too  often,  we  give  so 
languid  an  attention.  This  would  seem 
to  be  the  doctrine  of  St.  Paul,  when  ho 
3 


13 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


speaks  to  the  Ephesians  of  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel,  as  "to  the  intent  that  now, 
unto  tin;  principalities  ami  powers  in 
heavenly  places,  might  be  known  by  the 
Church  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God." 
Here  the  Church,  in  and  through  her 
public  ministrations,  is  represented  as 
furnishing  instruction  to  angelic  orders  of 
being,  as  those  lofty  creatures  camedown 
to  her  solemn  assemblies,  not  only  as 
observers,  but  as  seeking  lessons  for 
themselves  in  mysteries  which,  before- 
time,  they  had  vainly  striven  to  explore. 
And  when  the  same  Apostle  exhorts  the 
Corinthian  women  to  have  a  modest  veil, 
or  covering,  over  their  heads,  in  their 
religious  meetings,  he  persuades  them 
by  this  very  consideration,  that  they  ap- 
peared in  the  presence  of  the  angels — 
"because  of  the  angels," — and  thus 
gives  all  the  sanction  of  his  authority  to 
the  opinion,  that  angels  are  amongst  us 
when  we  gather  together  for  public 
worship. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  conclusion,  a 
conclusion  borne  out  by  other  statements 
of  Scripture,  which  we  derive  from  the 
familiar  acquaintance  which  the  angels 
manifest  with  what  Christ  had  said  to 
the  women  in  Galilee';  namely,  that 
angels  are  present  when  the  Gospel  is 
preached:  angels  had  in  all  likelihood 
been  present  when  the  Redeemer  an- 
nounced his  death  and  resurrection ;  and 
we  may  believe  that,  similarly,  as  the 
proclamation  of  redemption  is  now 
solemnly  and  statedly  made,  there  are 
other  auditors  besides  those  whom  our 
senses  can  discern  ;  that,  like  the  pro- 
phet's servants,  we  need  only  the  purging 
and  strengthening  of  our  vision,  ami  in 
addition  to  the  breathing  masses  of  our 
fellow-men,  we  shall  presently  ascertain 
the  place  of  our  assembling  to  be  thronged 
with  burning  form-,  those  stately  intelli- 
gences which  are  "  the  ministers  of 
God,"  executing  his  will  throughout  his 
vast  and  replenished  dominion.  And 
we  need  hardly  stay  to  point  out  to  you 
what  an  additional  solemnity  this  should 
cast  over  these  our  gatherings  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  ;  lor  it  must  commend 
itself  to  you  a!!,  that  the  being  actually 
under  the  observation  of  the  heavenly 
hosts,  the  having  in  the  midst  of  us,  as 
inspectors  of  what  passes,  a  multitude 
ui'  glorious  creatures,  the  cherubim  and 

him  that  are  permitted  to  enter  the 
immediate    presence    of    G  »d    himself, 


should  greatly  tend  to  the  banishing 
from  amongst  us  all  that  is  cold  and 
frivolous  and  listless,  and  to  the  keeping 
us  in  that  attitude  of  reverent  attention 
which  should  be  always  assumed,  yet  is 
often  wanting,  where  men  profess  to 
seek  an  audience  of  their  Maker. 

But  we  wish  specially  to  impress  upon 
you  a  purpose  for  which  angels  may  be 
present  at  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel, 
and  which  may  be  taken  as  illustrating 
generally  the  nature  of  their  ministra- 
tions on  our  behalf.  We  gather  at  once, 
from  our  Lord's  parable  of  the  sower, 
as  expounded  by  Himself,  that  Satan 
busily  endeavors  to  counteract  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel;  for  it  is  said, 
in  explanation  of  the  seed  sown  by  the 
way-side,  "  When  any  one  heareth  the 
word  of  the  kingdom,  and  understandeth 
it  not,  then  cometh  the  wicked  one,  and 
catcheth  away  that  which  was  sown  in 
his  heart."  There  is  no  interpretation 
to  be  put  upon  this,  save  that  the  devil  is 
ever  watching  the  effect  wrought  by  the 
delivery  of  the  word,  and  that,  with  an 
earnestness  only  equalled  by  his  malice, 
he  labors  to  thwart  it  whensoever  it 
threatens  to  be  injurious  to  his  power. 
And  if  evil  angels  be  thus  piesent  at  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  in  the  hope  of 
making  it  ineffectual,  why  should  we 
doubt  that  good  angels  are  present,  to 
strive  to  gain  it  place,  and  give  it  im- 
pressiveness  ]  Present,  we  have  every 
assurance  that  they  are  ;  and  if  we  con- 
sider that,  throughout  Scripture,  good 
and  evil  angels  are  represented  as  en- 
gaged in  a  struggle,  a  struggle  for  ascen- 
dency over  man,  we  must  believe  that 
the  efforts  of  the  one  are  met  by  pre- 
cisely antagonist  efforts  on  the  part  of 
the  others,  every  mine  having  its  counter- 
mine ;  so  that  if  they  who  are  against  us 
labor  to  catch  away  the  word,  they  who 
are  for  us  labor  to  imprint  it,  to  procure 
for  it  a  hold  and  grasp  upon  the  hearers. 

And  this  gives  something  of  a  prac- 
tical and  tangible  character  to  that  high 
contest  which  is  going  forwards  be- 
tween "  principalities  and  powers."  We 
need  not  lose  ourselves  in  endeavoring 
to  image  the  shock  of  spritual  intelli- 
gences, meeting  on  some  field  of  far  dis- 
tant space,  with  all  the  emblazonry  of 
celestial  pomp,  and  in  all  the  terribleness 
of  superhuman  strength.  It  may  be 
thus  that  poetry  loves  to  dwell  on  the 
buttles  of  angels  ;  but  theology  has  ra- 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


10 


ther  to  do  away  with  this  martial  mag- 
nificence, to  carry  the  war  into  the  nar- 
row domain  of  a  single  human  heart,  and 
there  to  give  it  the  character  of  a  moral 
conflict,  a  struggle  between  principles, 
supported  and  pressed  by  the  opposite 
parties  which  appear  as  combatants, 
and  engage  in  Uie  championship,  wheth- 
er of  falsehood  or  truth.  The  very  place 
of  our  present  assembling  is  a  scene  for 
the  hostile  meeting  of  evil  angels  and 
good  ;  and  there  is  not  one  of  you  who 
does  not  himself  furnish  a  field  for  that 
strife  between  invisible  powers,  which 
Scriptural  imagery  invests  with  the 
mysteriousness  that  belongs  to  the  vast 
and  inscrutable.  As  the  preacher  sets 
before  you  your  sinfulness,  and  exhort- 
ing you  to  amendment,  shows  you  the 
provision  made  by  God  for  your  pardon 
and  acceptance,  the  words  which  he  ut- 
ters are  just  as  weapons,  on  which  the 
combatants  labor  to  seize ;  the  evil  an- 
gels that  they  may  blunt  and  throw 
them  away,  the  good  that  they  may 
thrust  them  into  the  understanding,  and 
the  conscience,  and  the  heart.  But 
then,  let  it  never  be  overlooked  that  we 
are  ourselves  answerable  for  the  issue 
of  this  struggle;  that  neither  good  an- 
gels, nor  evil,  can  carry  their  end,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  they  have  us  for  auxilia- 
ries. It  were  of  all  things  the  easiest, 
to  make  the  contest,  of  which  we  are 
the  objects,  an  excuse  for  our  remaining 
indifferent  to  the  Gospel,  pleading  that 
it  rested  with  those  who  professed  to 
fight  our  cause,  to  gain  for  it  admission 
into  the  recesses  of  the  soul.  But  ex- 
actly as  we  are  not  to  "  grieve  the  Holy 
Spirit,''  and,  in  proportion  as  we  grieve 
Him,  must  expect  his  influences  to  be 
less  powerfully  put  forth  on  our  behalf, 
so  are  we  to  take  heed  to  second  good 
angels,  who  can  but  be  instruments 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  employs  ;  and  to 
expect  that  the  Gospel  will  lay  hold  on 
the  heart,  in  proportion  as  we  strive  to 
clear  away  prejudice,  and  to  receive  it 
with  docility  and  meekness. 

And  if  you  want  proof  how  much  may 
be  lost  through  deficiency  in  that  heed- 
fulness  which  would  aid  good  angels  in 
their  endeavors  to  give  effect  to  the 
word,  it  is  furnished  by  what  we  know 
of  the  women  whom  such  angels  address 
in  the  text.  There  could  apparently 
have  been  nothing  plainer  than  the 
preaching  of  our  blessed  Savior,  in  re- 


gard of  his  own  death  and  resurrection. 
He  announced,  in  simple,  unequivocal 
terms,  that  he  should  be  crucified  by 
his  enemies,  but  that  on  the  third  day  he 
would  rise  from  the  dead  ;  and  angels, 
as  it  now  seems,  were  present  to  imprint 
his  words  on  the  minds  of  the  hearers, 
to  prevent  their  being  carried  away,  as 
the  seed  is  carried  which  falls  by  the 
way-side.  But  the  followers  of*  the 
Redeemer  had  their  minds  preoccupied 
by  prejudices;  they  were  still  looking 
for  a  temporal  deliverer,  and  could  not 
tolerate  the  mention  of  an  ignominious 
death,  for  they  associated  with  it  the 
overthrow  of  long-cherished  hopes. 
Hence,  there  was  no  seconding  of  good 
angels,  but  rather  a  distinct  taking  part 
with  evil ;  and  consequently  the  words, 
which  might  have  been  remembered,  and 
could  not  have  been  misunderstood,  even 
by  a  child,  appear  to  have  been  com- 
pletely obliterated,  so  that  the  hearers 
remained  with  as  little  expectation  of 
what  was  coming  on  their  Lord,  as 
though  he  had  never  forewarned  them, 
or  forewarned  them  only  in  dubious  and 
mystical  terms.  When,  therefore,  the 
time  of  trial  came,  it  virtually  found 
them  wholly  unprepared  ;  and  the  death 
of  Jesus  as  actually  demolished  their 
hopes  as  if  he  had  not  told  them  that  it 
should  be  rapidly  followed  by  his  resur- 
rection. The  women,  who,  had  they 
but  remembered  and  believed,  might 
have  come  to  the  sepulchre,  rejoicing  in 
the  assurance  that  it  could  not  long  hold 
its  prey,  came  weeping  and  disheartened, 
bringing  with  them  spices  to  anoint  the 
body  which  they  supposed  would  remain 
an  inmate  of  the  grave.  And  it  might 
well  have  made  them  shed  tears  over 
their  own  darkness  and  unbelief,  even  in 
the  midst  of  their  gladness  at  the  triumph 
won  over  death,  that  the  angels,  in  prov- 
ing to  them  the  resurrection,  had  only 
to  adduce  words  which  should  have 
prevented  their  seeking  "  the  living 
among  the  dead  ;"  that  they  had  simply 
to  say  to  them,  "  Remember  how  he 
spake  unto  you,  when  he  was  yet  with 
you  in  Galilee." 

But  now  it  should  be  more  carefully 
observed,  that  this  reminding  the  wo- 
men of  what  had  been  said  to  them  by- 
Christ,  is  probably  but  an  example  of 
what  continually  occurs  in  the  minis- 
tration of  angels.  The  great  object  of 
our  discourse  is  to  illustrate  this  minis 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


tration,  to  give  it  something  of  a  tangi- 
ble character;  and  we  gladly  seize  on 
the  circumstance  of  the  angels  recalling 
to  the  minda  of  the  women  tilings  which 
had  been  heard,  because  it  seems  to 
place  under  a  practical  point  of  view 
what  is  too  generally  considered  mere 
useless  speculation.  And  though  we 
<]o  not  indeed  look  for  any  precise  re- 
petition of  the  scene  given  in  our  text, 
for  angels  do  not  now  take  visible  shapes 
in  order  to  commune  with  men,  we  know 
not  why  we  should  not  ascribe  to  an 
ministration  facts  accurately  similar,  if 
nol  as  palpable,  proceeding  from  super- 
natural agency.  We  think  that  we  shall 
be  home  out  by  the  experience  of  every 
believer  in  Christ,  when  we  affirm  that 
texts  of  Scripture  are  often  suddenly 
and  mysteriously  brought  into  the  mind; 
texts  which  have  not  perhaps  recently 
engaged  our  attention,  but  which  are 
most  nicely  suited  to  our  circumstances, 
or  which  furnish  most  precisely  the 
material  then  needed  by  our  wants. 
There  will  enter  into  the  spirit  of  a 
christian,  on  whom  has  fallen  some  un- 
expected temptation,  a  passage  of  the 
Bible  winch  is  just  as  a  weapon  where- 
with to  foil  his  assailant;  or  if  it  be  an 
unlooked-for  difficulty  into  which  he  is 
plunged,  the  occurring  verses  will  be 
those  best  adapted  for  counsel  and  guid- 
ance ;  or  if  it  be  some  fearful  trouble 
with  which  he  is  visited,  then  will  there 
pass  through  all  the  chambers  of  the  soul 
gracious  declarations  which  the  inspired 
writers  will  seem  to  have  uttered  and 
registered  on  purpose  for  himself.  And 
it  may  be  that  the  christian  will  observe 
nothing  peculiar  in  this  :  there  may  ap- 
pear to  him  nothing  but  an  effort  of 
memory,  roused  and  acted  on  by  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  is  placed  ; 
and  he  may  consider  it  as  natural,  that 
suitable  passages  should  throng  into  his 
mind,  as  that  he  should  remember  an 
event  at  the  place  where  he  knows  it  to 
have  happened. 

But  let  him  ask  himself  whether  he 
is  not,  on  the  other  hand,  often  conscious 
of  the  intrusion  into  his  soul  of  what  is 
base  and  defiling  ?  Whether,  if  he  hap- 
pen to  have  heard  the  jeer  and  the  blas- 
phemy, the  parody  on  sacred  things,  or 
the  insult  upon  moral,  they  will  not  be 
frequently  recurring  to  his  mind  ?  recur- 
ring too  at  moments  when  there  is  least 
to  provoke  them,  and  when  it  had  been 


most  his  endeavor  to  gather  round  him 
an  atmosphere  of  what  is  sacred  and 
pure.  And  we  never  scruple  to  give  it 
as  matter  of  consolation  to  a  christian, 
harassed  by  these  vile  invasions  of  his 
soul,  that  he  may  justly  ascribe  them  to 
the  agency  of  the  devil:  wicked  angels 
inject  into  the  mind  the  foul  and  pollut- 
ing ([notation  :  and  there  is  not  neces- 
sarily any  sin  in  receiving  it,  though 
there  must  he  if  we  give  it  entertain- 
ment, in  place  of  casting  it  instantly  out. 
But  why  should  we  he  so  ready  to  go 
for  explanation  to  the  power  of  memory, 
and  the  force  of  circumstances,  when  ap- 
posite  texts  occur  to  the  mind,  and  then 
resolve  into  Satanic  agency  the  profana- 
tion  of  the  spirit  with  what  is  blasphe- 
mous and  base  ]  It  were  far  more  con- 
sistent to  admit  a  spiritual  influence  in 
the  one  case  as  well  as  in  the  other;  to 
suppose,  that,  if  evil  angels  syllable  to 
the  soul  what  may  have  been  heard  or 
read  of  revolting  and  impure,  good  an- 
gels breathe  into  its  recesses  the  sacred 
words,  not  perhaps  recently  perused, 
but  which  apply  most  accurately  to  our 
existing  condition.  It  is  expressly  said 
of  the  devil,  that  he  is  "  the  spirit  that 
worketh  in  the  children  of  disobedience," 
as  though  he  not  merely  had  access  to 
their  minds,  but  took  up  his  abode  there, 
that  he  might  carry  on,  as  in  a  citadel, 
the  war  and  the  stratagem.  And  if  evil 
angels  have  such  power  over  the  thoughts 
of  men  for  evil,  it  seems  unreasonable 
to  question  that  good  angels  have  as 
great  influence  over  them  for  good;  that 
they  too  work  in  the  children  of  obedi- 
ence, and  are  mainly  instrumental  in  call- 
ing up  and  marshalling  those  solemn 
processions  of  sacred  remembrances 
which  pass,  with  silent  tread,  through 
the  chambers  of  the  spirit,  and  leave  on 
them  the  impress  of  their  pureness  and 
power. 

We  do  not  wish  to  draw  you  away,  in 
the  least  degree,  from  the  truth,  that 
"the  eternal  uncreated  Spirit  of  God 
alone,  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  the  author  of 
our  santification,  the  infuser  into  us  of 
the  principle  of  divine  life,  and  He  only 
is  able  to  overrule  our  wills,  to  penetrate 
the  deepest  secrets  of  our  hearts,  and  to 
rectify  our  most  inward  faculties."*  But 
surely  it  does  not  infringe  the  office  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  to  suppose,  with  Bishop 


*  Bishop  Bull. 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


21 


Bull,  that  "  good  angels  may,  and  often 
do,  as  instruments  of  the  Divine  good- 
ness, powerfully  operate  upon  our 
fancies  and  imaginations,  and  thereby 
prompt  us  to  pious  thoughts,  affections, 
and  actions."  They  were  angels,  as 
you  will  remember,  which  came  and 
ministered  to  our  Lord  after  He 
had  been  exposed  in  the  wilderness  to 
extraordinary  assaults  from  the  devil. 
He  had  the  Spirit  without  measure; 
but,  nevertheless,  as  though  to  mark 
to  us  the  agency  which  this  Spirit  is 
often  pleased  to  employ,  it  was  in  and 
through  angels  that  consolation  was  im- 
parted ;  even  as,  in  the  dread  hour  of 
his  last  conflict  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, "  there  appeared  an  angel  unto  him 
from  heaven,  strengthening  him."  And 
with  every  admission  of  the  abundant 
comfort  contained  in  the  truth,  that  a 
Divine  person,  even  the  Holy  Ghost,  is 
continually  engaged  with  observing  our 
course,  and  promoting  our  welfare,  we 
cannot  but  feel  that  it  makes  this  truth 
more  tangible,  or  brings  it  more  home  to 
our  perception,  to  suppose  such  beings 
as  angels  employed  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
to  carry  on  his  work.  You  know  prac- 
tically what  comfort  there  is  in  the 
thought  of  its  being  in  human  form  that 
the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity  dis- 
charges the  office  of  Intercessor  :  we 
should  be  quite  lost  in  approaching  Him, 
were  it  merely  as  God  that  He  ministers 
above  ;  but  we  are  more  at  home,  and 
we  feel  greatly  assured,  in  having,  so  to 
speak,  a  created  medium,  through  which 
to  draw  nigh. 

And  what  is  thus  true  of  the  work  of 
intercession,  carried  on  by  the  Second 
Person,  is  true  also,  in  its  measure,  of 
the  work  of  sanctification,  which  apper- 
tains specially  to  the  Third.  We  can 
better  apprehend  this  work,  when  we 
associate  with  a  created  though  subordi- 
nate agency ;  and  that,  which  might  seem 
vague  and  indefinite,  if  referred  wholly 
to  one  infinite  and  inapproachable  Being, 
commends  itself  to  us,  both  as  actually 
going  forward,  and  as  beautifully  fitted 
to  our  weakness  and  wants,  when  we 
know  it  effected  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  creatures  higher  indeed  and 
far  more  glorious  than  ourselves,  but 
nevertheless  creatures  who  have  them- 
selves known  what  moral  danger  is,  and 
who  can  therefore  rejoice,  with  ineffable 
gladness,  over  one  sinner  who  turns  from 


the  error  of  his  ways.  That  I  cannot 
see  these  angels  busying  themselves  with 
the  work  of  my  sanctification,  is  no  more 
an  argument  against  there  being  comfort 
in  the  fact,  than  is  my  not  seeing  the 
glorified  humanity  of  Christ,  against  the 
encouragement  which  it  gives  as  to  the 
work  of  intercession.  In  both  cases  I 
believe  that  there  is  a  something  created, 
and  therefore  a  something  not  too  far  re- 
moved from  myself,  which  is  engaged  in 
ministrations  for  my  good  ;  and  thus,  in 
both  cases,  there  has  been  a  condescen- 
sion to  the  weakness  of  my  nature,  and 
God  may  be  said  to  have  come  near  to 
me  without  the  blaze  of  his  celestial 
effulgence,  that  his  terror  might  not 
make  me  afraid.     Job,  xxxiii.  7. 

Not  only  therefore  can  I  regard  it  as 
credible,  that  angels  stir  up  our  torpid 
memories,  and  bring  truths  to  our  recol- 
lection, as  they  did  to  the  women  at  the 
sepulchre  of  Christ, — I  can  rejoice  in  it 
as  fraught  With  consolation,  because 
showing  that  a  created  instrumentality 
is  used  by  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  renew- 
ing our  nature.  And  surely  it  may  well 
excite  gladness,  that  there  is  around  the 
christian  the  guardianship  of  heavenly 
hosts ;  that,  whilst  his  pathway  is 
thronged  by  malignant  spirits,  whose 
only  effort  is  to  involve  him  in  their 
everlasting  shame,  it  is  also  thronged  by 
ministers  of  grace,  who  long  to  have  him 
as  their  companion  in  the  presence  of 
God  ;  for  there  is  thus  what  we  might 
almost  dare  to  call  a  visible  array  of 
power  on  our  side,  and  we  may  take  all 
that  confidence  which  should  result  from 
being  actually  permitted  to  look  on  the 
antagonists,  and  to  see  that  there  are 
more  with  us  than  there  are  against. 
We  will  not  debate  whether  other  and 
satisfactory  solutions  may  be  given  of 
the  fact  which  has  furnished  our  illustra- 
tion of  angelic  ministration,  but  we 
doubt  whether  any  can  be  more  scriptu- 
ral :  and  whilst  it  agrees  so  well  with 
their  general  office,  and  is  so  fitted  to 
strengthen  us  in  our  pilgrimage,  we 
shall  venture  to  regard  angels  as  God's 
remembrancers  to  man.  And  they  may 
talk  to  me  of  the  tenacity  of  memory, 
and  the  force  of  circumstances — the  te- 
nacity of  memory,  which  will  often 
hardly  serve  us  from  day  to  day,  but  lets 
slip  a  hundred  things  which  we  longed 
to  retain !  the  force  of  circumstances, 
which,    ordinarily,    save    where    there 


22 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


exists  great  presence  of  mind,  bewilder 
and  perplex,  rather  than  suggest  the  fit- 
ting and  appropriate.1!  Yea,  they  may 
talk  of  the  tenacity  of  memory,  and  the 
force  of  circumstances,  and  think  to 
explain  from  such  elements  that  recur- 
rence  to  the  mind  of  suitable  texts,  that 
sudden  resurrection  of  forgotten  pas- 
sages of  Scripture,  at  the  very  moment 
when  they  apply  with  greatest  accuracy, 
whicb  every  christian  is  conscious  of  in 
himself,  and  which  he  will  find  exera- 
pliiied  in  the  experience  of  others.  We 
have  a  better  way  of  accounting  for  the 
phenomenon;  a  better,  inasmuch  as 
(were  there  nothing  else  to  be  said)  it 
leaves  to  the  aged  the  consolation  of 
knowing  that  memory  may  decay,  and 
yet  the  Bible  not  depart  from  their 
minds.  And  who  has  not  seen  this  ex- 
hibited in  the  aged  ?  The  grey-headed 
christian,  when  he  has  almost  forgotten 
even  the  faces  of  friends,  will  yet  fami- 
liarly quote  the  sayings**  of  Scripture. 
We  have  then,  we  say,  a  better  way  of 
explaining  the  phenomenon.  'We  as- 
cribe it  to  the  suggestings  of  those 
*'  ministering  spirits,"  which  wait  on  the 
"  heirs  of  salvation,"  that  texts  and  pas- 
sages of  Holy  Writ  come  so  mysteriously, 
but  appropriately,  into  the  mind.  Oh, 
it  is  not  the  burning  and  beautiful 
imagery  of  poetry  alone,  which  would 
people  the  air,  and  make  it  melodious 
with  the  voices  of  invisible  beings.  After 
all,  there  is  more  of  real  poetry  in  the 
facts  of  theology,  than  in  the  finest 
excursions  of  the  human  imagination. 
I  believe,  I  do  not  fancy,  that  there 
are  silent  whisperings  to  the  soul  from 
spiritual  creatures;  the  texts  which  rise 
up  so  wonderfully  in  the  hour  whether 
of  temptation  or  of  sorrow,  as  though 
mad.'  for  the  occasion,  are  actually  the 
utterances  of  guardian  beings;  and  if 
there  were  more  of  a  demonstration  to 
the  senses,  than  when  passages  occur  to 
ourselves,  I  know  not  why  we  should 
think  there  was  a  more  literal  suggestion 
of  truth  to  the  mind,  in  the  scene  pre- 
sented by  our  text,  when  angels  appear- 
ing as  men,  said  to  the  women  that  were 
early  at  the  sepulchre,  "Remember  how 
he  spake  unto  you,  when  he  was  yet 
with  you  in  Galilee." 

But  it  is  hardly  possible  to  read  these 
words  of  the  angels,  and  not  to  feel  how 
reproachfully  they  must  have  fallen  on 
the  ears  of  the  women  !  how  they  must 


have  upbraided  them  with  want  of  at- 
tention and  of  faith  !  For  had  they  but 
listened  heedfully  to  what  Christ  had 
said,  and  had  they  but  given  due  cre- 
dence to  his  words,  they  would  have 
come  in  triumph  to  welcome  the  living, 
in  place  of  mournfully  with  spices  to 
embalm  the  dead.  If  it  ministered  to 
them  gladness,  to  be  told  that  the  Lord 
had  risen,  it  must  have  occasioned 
them  sorrow,  to  be  reminded  that  he 
himself  had  foretold  his  resurrection ; 
so  that  their  presence  at  the  tomb, 
bearing  what  they  meant  to  evidence 
their  love,  spake  of  nothing  more 
deeply  than  of  the  neglect  with  which 
they  had  treated  his  words.  It  was 
well  for  these  women  that  they  were 
thus  taught  their  inattention  and  unbelief 
whilst  it  was  not  too  late  for  repentance 
and  confession.  They  might  have  been 
left  to  die  in  their  forgetfulness ;  for 
there  is  nothing  in  their  history  to  show 
that  the  strength  of  memory  and  the  force 
of  circumstances  would  have  brought 
Christ's  words  to  their  remembrance ; 
on  the  contrary,  the  empty  sepulchre, 
which  you  would  have  thought  most 
likely  to  recall  the  words,  had  nothing 
but  a  bewildering  effect ;  for  you  read, 
"  they  found  the  stone  rolled  away  from 
the  sepulchre,  and  they  entered  in,  and 
found  not  the  body  of  the  Lord  Jesus  ; 
and  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  were 
much  perplexed  thereabout,  behold,  two 
men  stood  by  them  in  shining  garments." 
The  circumstances  were  precisely  those 
which  might  have  been  expected  to  sug- 
gest the  long-neglected  saying,  and  thus 
cause  the  truth  to  flash  upon  the  mind: 
yet  you  see,  that  had  there  not  been  the  an- 
gelic interference,  the  women  would  have 
had  no  explanation  to  give  of  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  body  of  their  Lord.  And 
they  might  have  been  left  without  this 
interference  ;  suffered  to  die  with  Christ's 
words  as  witnesses  against  them,  wit- 
nesses which  would  have  proved  them 
inexcusable  in  not  knowing  that  Messiah 
was  to  be  crucified  for  sin,  but  not  suffer- 
ed to  see  corruption  in  the  graVe. 

But  God  dealt  more  graciously  with 
these  women  than  their  inattention,  or 
want  of  faith,  had  deserved;  he  caused 
the  words  to  be  brought  to  their  remem- 
brance, whilst  they  might  yet  inspire  con- 
fidence, though  they  could  hardly  fail  al- 
so to  excite  bitter  contrition.  It  is  often 
thus    with    ourselves ;    the   appropriate 


ANGELS  AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 


23 


text  is  made  to  recur  to  the  mind ;  bat 
whilst  we  gather  from  it  an  abundance 
of  comfort,  we  are  forced  to  reproach 
ourselves  for  having  been  cast  down,  or 
terrified,  when  God  had  put  such  truths 
upon  record  as  should  have  left  no  place 
for  anxiety  or  doubt.  If  Christ  be  wa- 
kened from  his  sleep,  through  our  terror 
at  the  storm,  he  may  not  only  rebuke  the 
winds  and  the  waves,  but  chide  us  at  the 
same  time  as  men  "  of  little  faith." 

May  it  not,  however,  be,  that,  where 
there  has  been  wilful  inattention  to  the 
word,  there  vyill  not  always  occur  this  an- 
gelic recalling  of  it  to  the  mind  1  not,  at 
least,  whilst  there  is  yet  time  for  the  lay- 
ing it  to  heart  ?     We  dare  not  doubt  this. 
And  if  the  remembered   words  fall  re- 
proachfully on  the  ear,  when  we  may  yet 
make  use  of  them  for  good,  what,  alas  ! 
shall  it  be  if  the  words  be  then  only  re- 
called, when  there  shall  no  longer  be 
"place  for  repentance]"     Our  blessed 
Saviour  Himself,  speaking  of  what  shall 
be  the  process  of  judgment  at  the  last 
dreadful  day,  makes  his  word  the  great 
accuser  of  all  such  as  reject  him.     "He 
that  rejecteth  me,  and  receiveth  not  my  ' 
words,' hath  one  that  judgeth  him:  the 
word  that  I  have  spoken,  the  same  shall 
judge  him  in  the  last  day."     And  when 
with  this  you  connect  the  part  which  an- 
gels are  to  take  in  the  awful  assize  on 
the  whole  race  of  man  ;  for  we  read  that 
"the  angels  shall  come  forth,  and  sever 
the  wicked  from  among  the  just : "  that 
"the  Son  of  Man  shall  send  forth  his  an- 
gels, and  they  shall  gather  out  of  his  king- 
dom all  things  that  offend,  and  them  which 
do  iniquity,  and  shall  cast  them  into  a  fur- 
nace 06  fire  ; " — O  terrible  thought,  that 
the  very  beings  who  now  watch  over  us 
as   friends,  good   angels,  not  evil,  shall 
bind  up  the  offending,  and  cast  them  in- 
to   hell ! — when,  we    say,  you   connect 
what  Christ  says  of  his  word,  with  what 
He  elsewhere  says  of  angels;  the  word, 
the  condemning  thing  at  the  judgment, 
the  angels,  the  ministers  of  vengeance  ; 
you  can  hardly  question  that  the  office, 
which  celestial  beings  performed  towards 
the  women  at  the  resurrection  of  Christ, 
is  one  which  they  will  yet  perform  to- 
wards multitudes,  when  the  earth  and  the 
sea  shall  have  given  up  their  dead.     Is 
it  the   sensualist  who  is  being  carried 
away  into  outer  darkness  1  and  where- 
fore is   he  speechless  1     The  attendant 
angel   hath  said,  "  Remember   how  he 


spake  unto  you  when  he  was  yet  with 
you  \ipon  earth  ;  Neither  fornicators,  nor 
adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor  drunkards, 
shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  It 
is  the  word  which  judges  him,  and  it 
is  the  angel  which  binds  him.  Is  it  the 
covetous  on  whom  has  been  passed  a 
sentence  against  which  he  has  nothing  to 
urge  1  The  angel  hath  said,  "  Remem- 
ber how  he  spake  unto  you,  Covetous- 
ness,  which  is  idolatry."  Is  it  the  proud  ? 
"  Remember  how  he  spake  unto  you, 
God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace 
unto  the  lowly."  Is  it  the  careless  and 
the  indifferent  ]  "  Remember  how  he 
spake  unto  you,  What  shall  a  man  give 
in  exchange  for  his  soul  1  "  Is  it  the 
procrastinator,  who  had  deferred  the  sea- 
son of  repentance  1  "  Remember  how 
he  spake  unto  you,  Behold,  now  is  the 
accepted  time ;  behold,  now  is  the  day 
of  salvation." 

In  each  and  every  case  the  Word  may 
judge,  and  the  angels  may  bind.  O  that 
this  were  well  laid  to  heart  by  all  in  the 
present  assembly!  We  venture  to  say 
that  it  happens  to  all  of  you  to  have  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  powerfully  brought 
home  to  the  mind — you  know  not  by 
what  agency,  and  you  cannot,  perhaps, 
account  for  the  sudden  intrusion — but 
there  they  are ;  passages  which  would 
dissuade  you  from  some  pursuit  on  which 
you  are  tempted  to  enter,  or  urge  you  to 
some  duty  which  you  are  tempted  to 
neglect.  It  is  the  voice  of  a  guardian 
spirit,  that  spirit,  perhaps,  which,  in  holy 
baptism,  was  specially  appointed  to  at- 
tend your  course,  which  you  should  con- 
sider that  you  hear  in  these  whispered 
passages.  Hearken  ye  diligently  to  this 
silent  voice.  Ye  resist  the  Holy  Ghost 
when  ye  resist  the  angel  that  would  thus, 
by  adducing  Scripture,  rebuke  you,  as 
the  women  were  rebuked,  for  seeking 
"  the  living  amongst  the  dead,"  the  food 
of  the  soul  amid  the  objects  of  sense.  If, 
when  secretly  reminded  of  the  truth,  ye 
will  give  heed,  and  act  forthwith  on  the 
suggested  lesson — whether  it  prompt  to 
prayer  or  to  resistance,  or  to  self-denial, 
or  to  amendment — we  can  promise  you 
such  assistance  from  above  as  shall  carry 
you  on  towards  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 
But  if  ye  refuse,  and  turn  a  deaf  ear,  alas  ! 
alas  !  the  voice  may  never  again  be  heard 
on  this  side  the  grave.  Yet  the  words 
have  not  perished;  the  words  cannot 
perish  :    again,  again,  shall  they  find  a 


24 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


voice,  but  a  voice  which  will  be  burdened 
with  condemnation  ;  for  thus  shall  it  in- 
troduce at  the  judgment  the  long-neglect- 


ed sayings,  "  Remember  how  he  spake 
unto  you,  whilst  he  was  yet  with  you 
upon  earth." 


SERMON    III 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


Many  of  them  also  which  used  curious  arts,  brought  their  books  together,  and  burned  them  b«fore  all  men : 
they  counted  the  price  of  them,  and  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver." — Acts  xix.  19. 


This  occurred  at  Ephesus,  a  celebrat- 
ed city  of  Asia  Minor,  which  contained 
that  magnificent  temple  of  Diana,  which 
was  reckoned  amongst  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  The  Ephesians,  it  appears,  were 
greatly  addicted  to  the  study  of  curious 
arts,  to  magic,  sorcery,  and  judicial  as- 
trology, so  that  "  Ephesian  letters  "  be- 
came a  proverbial  expression  for  cabalis- 
tic, or  magical,  characters.  The  Gospel, 
as  preached  by  St.  Paul,  made  great  way 
in  Ephesus,  and  a  very  flourishing  church 
rewarded  his  labors.  The  Ephesians, 
according  to  the  common  course  of  the 
Divine  dealings,  were  attacked  in  the 
way  which  their  habits  and  pursuits 
marked  out  as  most  promising-.  In  no 
place  does  there  seem  to  have  been  so 
great  a  display  of  supernatural  energy  ; 
as  though  men,  much  addicted  to  witch- 
craft, to  the  attempting  unlawful  inter- 
course with  potent  but  invisible  beings, 
were  likely  to  be  most  wrought  upon  by 
evidence  of  intimate  connection  with 
spiritual  agents.  You  read  that  "  God 
wrought  special  miracles  by  the  hands  of 
Paul,  so  that  from  his  body  were  brought 
unto  the  sick  handkerchiefs,  or  aprons, 
and  the  diseases  departed  from  them,  and 
the  evil  spirits  went  out  of  them." 

It  must  have  been  very  striking  to  the 
Ephesian  magicians,  to  find  that  St. 
Paul  could  thus  apparently  communicate 
a  sort  of  magical  virtue  to  articles  of 


dress  :  they  were  perhaps  more  likely 
than  men  who  had  never  meddled  with 
occult  arts,  to  feel  the  force  of  such  an 
evidence  of  superhuman  might.  In 
short,  the  Ephesians,  because  accustom- 
ed to  produce  strange  results  by  some 
species  or  another  of  witchcraft,  would 
naturally  ascribe  miracles  to  a  similar 
agency ;  hence,  the  miracles,  which 
were  to  serve  as  their  credentials  of 
Christianity,  required  to  be  more  than 
commonly  potent,  such  as  were  not  in 
any  degree  imitable,  whether  through 
the  dexterity  of  the  juggler,  or  the  in- 
|  cantations  of  the  sorcerer.  And  it  seems 
!  to  us  one  of  those  instances,  not  die  less 
[  remarkable  because  easily  overlooked, 
of  the  carefulness  with  which  God  adapts 
means  to  an  end,  that,  in  a  city  in  which, 
of  all  others,  false  miracles  were  likely 
to  abound,  and  improper  arts  made  the 
mind  familiar  with  strange  phenomena, 
the  powers  granted  to  the  preachers  of 
Christianity  were  of  extraordinary  extent, 
sufficing  to  place  an  apostle  at  an  im- 
measurable distance  from  the  most  con- 
summate magician. 

It  is,  moreover,  evident  that  the  hold 
gained  on  the  Epesians  was  gained  by 
and  through  the  demonstration  of  the 
superiority  of  St.  Paul's  power  to  that 
possessed  by  any  dealer  in  unlawful  arts, 
In  the  verses  which  immediately  precede 
our  text,  you  have  the  account  of  a  sin- 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


25 


gular  occurrence,  which  appears  to  have 
had  much  to  do  with  the  obtaining  for 
Christianity  a  firm  footing  in  Ephesus. 
You  read  that  certain  Jews,  who  travel- 
led the  country  as  exorcists,  persons,  that 
is,  who  professed  to  cast  out  the  evil 
spirits  which  had  then  frequent  posses- 
sion of  men's  bodies,  took  upon  them  to 
employ  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  in 
their  endeavors  to  eject  demons,  having 
observed  with  what  success  it  was  used 
by  St.  Paul.  Amongst  others  who  made 
the  wicked  and  insolent  attempt,  for  such 
it  surely  was,  to  endeavor  to  weave  a 
spell  from  a  name  which  they  openly 
blasphemed,  were  the  "  seven  sons  of  one 
Sceva,  a  Jew."  As  though  they  thought 
that  numbers  would  give  force  to  the  ad- 
juration, these  seven  appear  to  have  gone 
together  to  a  man  demoniacally  possessed, 
and  to  have  addressed  the  foul  spirit  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  spirit, 
however,  answered,  "Jesus  I  know,  and 
Paul  1  know  ;  but  who  are  ye  1 "  Thus 
the  demon  professed  himself  ready  to 
submit  to  Jesus,  or  Paul,  his  accredited 
messenger;  but  he  knew  of  no  right 
which  these  exorcists  had  to  dispossess 
him  by  the  name  whose  potency  he  ac- 
knowledged. He  was  not,  however, 
content  with  thus  refusing  to  be  exor- 
cised :  he  took  a  signal  revenge,  causing 
the  man,  in  whom  he  dwelt,  to  put  forth 
supernatural  strength,  so  that  he  leaped 
upon  the  seven  men,  and  overcame  them, 
and  forced  them  to  flee  "  out  of  the 
house  naked  and  wounded." 

This  was  quickly  noised  abroad,  and 
produced,  we  are  told,  great  effects 
among  both  the. Jews  and  Greeks  who 
were  dwelling  at  Ephesus;  "and  fear 
fell  on  them  all,  and  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  was  magnified."  To  men 
accustomed  to  make  use  of  charms  and 
incantations,  the  evidence  thus  given  of 
the  sacredness  of  Christ's  name,  and  of 
the  peril  of  employing  it  to  any  but  those 
who  believed  in  his  mission,  would 
naturally  be  very  convincing :  it  was 
just  the  sort  of  evidence  which  their 
habits  made  them  most  capable  of  ap- 
preciating, and  by  which  therefore  they 
were  most  likely  to  be  overcome.  Ac- 
cordingly, it  seems  at  once  to  have  taught 
numbers  the  necessity  of  submitting  to 
Christ,  and  renouncing  those  arts  of 
magic  and  sorcery,  through  which  they 
had  perhaps  endeavored  to  hold  inter- 
course with  spirits  They  acted  with 
Vol.  II. 


great  promptness  on  the  conviction  :  they 
laid  open  all  the  mysteries  of  their 
witchcraft,  they  "  came,  .and  confessed, 
and  showed  their  deeds ;"  and  then, 
fired  with  a  holy  indignation  at  the  ne- 
farious practices  in  which  they  had  long 
indulged,  and  abhorring  the  very  books 
which  contained  the  rules  and  secrets  of 
their  arts,  they  gathered  together  the 
curious  and  costly  volumes,  and  publicly 
burned  them ;  thus  evidencing  their 
sincerity  by  no  trifling  sacrifice,  for  when 
they  counted  the  price  of  these  books, 
"  they  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of 
silver." 

Now  there  are  certain  points  of  view, 
under  which  if  this  conduct  of  the 
Ephesians  be  surveyed,  it  will  appear 
singularly  deserving  of  being  both  ad- 
mired and  imitated.  We  believe  of  this 
incident  of  the  burning  of  the  magical 
books,  as  of  the  rest  of  scriptural  history, 
that  it  has  been  "  written  for  our  admo- 
nition," and  ought  not  to  be  passed  over 
with  a  mere  cursory  notice/  We  shall 
accordingly  proceed  to  the  endeavoring 
to  extract  from  it  such  lessons  as  there 
shall  seem  ground  for  supposing  it  in- 
tended to  furnish. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  inquire  what 
those  arts  may  have  been,  in  which  the 
Ephesians  are  said  to  have  greatly  ex- 
celled. There  seems  no  reason  for 
doubting,  that,  as  we  have  stated  already, 
they  were  of  the  nature  of  magic,  sorcery, 
or  witchcraft;  though  we  cannot  profess 
accurately  to  define  what  such  terms 
might  import.  The  Ephesians,  as  some 
in  all  ages  have  done,  probably  laid 
claim  to  intercourse  with  invisible  beings, 
and  professed  to  derive  from  that  inter- 
course acquaintance  with,  and  power 
( iver,  future  events.  And  though  the  very 
name  of  witchcraft  be  now  held  in  con- 
tempt, and  the  supposition  of  communion 
with  evil  spirits  scouted  as  a  fable  of 
what  are  called  the  dark  ages,  we  own 
that  we  have  difficulty  in  believing,  that 
all  which  has  passed  by  the  names  of 
magic  and  sorcery  may  be  resolved  into 
sleight  of  hand,  deception,  and  trick. 
The  visible  world  and  the  invisible  are 
in  very  close  contact :  there  is  indeed  a 
veil  on  our  eyes,  preventing  our  gazing 
on  spiritual  beings  and  things  ;  but  we 
doubt  not  that  whatsoever  passes  upon 
earth  is  open  to  the  view  of  higher  and 
immaterial  creatures.  And  as  we  are 
sure  that  a  man  of  piety  and  prayer  en- 
4 


20 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


lists  good  angels  on  his  side,  and  engages 
them  to  perform  towards  him  the  minis- 
trations of  kindness,  we  know  not  why 
there  cannot  be  such  a  thing  as  a  man 
whose  wickedness  has  caused  his  being 
abandoned  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  who, 
in  this  his  desertion,  has  thrown  open  to 
evil  angels  the  chambers  of  his  soul,  and 
made  himself  so  completely  their  instru- 
ment, that  they  may  use  him  in  the 
littering  or  working  strange  things, 
which  shall  have  all  the  air  of  prophecy 
or  miracle. 

But  whatever  your  opinion  be  as  to 
the  precise  nature  of  sorcery,  and  the 
degree  to  which  it  might  be  carried,  we 
may  be  sure  that  the  books,  which  the 
Ephesian  converts  so  resolutely  burnt, 
contained  the  mysteries  of  the  art, 
the  rules  by  whose  study  and  appli- 
cation men  were  to  acquire  what,  at 
least,  might  resemble  superhuman  power 
and  skill.  And  what  we  have  first  to 
remark  on  the  burning  of  these  books,  is 
that  it  manifested  great  detestation  of 
their  contents,  though  hitherto  the  Ephe- 
6ians  had  specially  delighted  in  reading 
and  applying  them.  There  could  have 
been  no  stronger  evidence  of  the  reality 
of  their  conversion,  than  was  given  by 
their  committing  these  volumes  to  the 
flames.  They  thus  showed  a  thorough 
consciousness  of  the  unlawfulness  of  the 
arts  of  which  the  books  treated,  and  an 
abhorrence  of  the  practices  therein  de- 
scribed. And  it  is  always  a  great  sign 
of  the  genuineness,  the  sincerity,  of  reli- 
gion, when  a  man  proves  that  the  things, 
in  which  he  once  took  delight,  are  re- 
garded by  him  with  hatred  and  aversion. 
It  is  given  as  the  characteristic  of  vital 
Christianity,  that  he  in  whom  it  dwells, 
has  become  "  a  new  creature."  There  is 
nothing  which  may  take  the  place  of  this 
characteristic,  or  make  up  for  its  want. 
It  matters  not  whether  a  man  can  de- 
scribe the  process  of  his  conversion,  or 
fix  its  exact  date :  he  may  have  been 
truly  converted,  and  yet  be  ignorant  how 
and  when  it  was  done.  But  it  is  quite 
indispensable  that  there  should  be  evi- 
dences of  moral  renewal  :  light  and 
darkness  are  not  more  opposed  than  the 
state  of  the  converted  and  that  of  the 
unconverted ;  and  though  I  may  not 
know  the  moment  or  the  manner  of  my 
being  translated  from  the  one  to  the 
other,  there  is  more  than  room  for  doubt- 
ing whether  I  can  have  been  translated  at 


all,  if  no  change  have  perceptibly  passed 
on  my  hopes,  desires,  and  fears.  Regen- 
erated in  baptism,  I  may  indeed  have  been 
"  daily  renewed,"  *  and  never,  therefore, 
have  needed  conversion.  But  if  1  have 
ever  lived  a  worldly  life,  and  then  heark- 
ened to  the  dictates  of  religion,  the  transi- 
tion may  have  been  silently  and  imper- 
ceptibly effected,  but  must  be  demon- 
strable from  strong  contrasts  between 
what  I  am  and  what  I  once  was. 

We  have  always  therefore  to  require 
of  men,  who,  once  worldly,  now  think 
themselves  converted,  that  they  rest  con- 
tent with  no  evidence  but  that  of  a  great 
moral  change ;  not  satisfied,  because 
there  may  have  been  something  of  ex- 
ternal reform,  but  searching  for  proof 
of  such  alteration  in  character,  that  they 
hate  what  they  loved,  and  love  what 
they  hated.  Such  a  proof  the  Ephesians 
gave,  when  they  burnt  their  costly  trea- 
tises on  magic.  They  had  been  special- 
ly addicted  to  magic  :  by  and  through 
magic  they  had  specially  offended  God, 
and  periled  their  souls  :  so  soon,  there- 
fore, as  Christianity  had  won  its  way  to 
their  hearts,  it  was  against  magic  that 
they  showed  a  holy  indignation  ;  it  was 
magic  which  they  proved  themselves 
resolved  to  abandon.  The  moral  change 
was  thus  satisfactorily  evidenced ;  the 
thing  which  had  been  most  delighted  in 
was  the  thing  most  abhorred ;  and  no 
proof  could  be  stronger,  that  the  men 
were  new  creatures  in  Christ. 

We  ask  the  like  proof  from  those  of  you 
who  suppose  themselves  "  renewed  in 
the  spirit  of  their  mind."  Have  you 
burnt  your  books  on  magic]  We.  do 
not  accuse  you  of  having,  like  the  Ephe- 
sians, practised  the  arts  of  the  sorcerer: 
ye  have  not  woven  spells,  nor  muttered 
incantations.  Ye  have  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  mysteries  of  enchantment, 
or  with  the  foul  rites  of  necromancy, 
dazzling  the  living  or  disturbing  the 
dead.  But,  nevertheless,  ye  have  been 
in  communion  with  "  the  god  of  this 
world,"  "the  prince  of  the  power  of  the 
air  :  "  ye  have  submitted  to  his  illusions, 
and  surrendered  yourselves  to  his  service. 
If,  in  some  peculiar  sense,  the  sorcerer 
or  the  magician  give  himself  up  to  the 
devil,  and  make  himself  his  instrument, 
there  is  a  broader  sense  in  which  every 
one  of  us  by  nature   holds    intercourse 

*  Collect  for  Christmas-Day. 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


27 


with  fallen  angels,  and  learns  from  them 
how  to  put  deceit  on  others  and  himself. 
Yea,  and  we  have  our  books  upon  ma- 
gic. What  are  half  the  volumes  with 
which  the  laud  is  deluged,  but  volumes 
which  can  teach  nothing  but  how  to 
serve  the  devil  better  ]  How  numerous 
the  works  of  an  infidel  tendency  !  How 
yet  mure  numerous  those  of  an  immoral ! 
What  a  shoal  of  poems  and  tales,  which, 
though  not  justly  falling  under  either  of 
these  descriptions,  can  but  emasculate 
the  mind  of  the  reader,  filling  it  with 
fancies  and  follies,  and  unfitting  it  for 
high  thought  and  solemn  investigation. 
What  treatises  on  the  acquisition  of 
wealth,  as  though  money  were  the  one 
thing  needful ;  what  histories  of  the  am- 
bitious and  daring,  as  though  human 
honor  deserved  our  chief  aspirations  ; 
what  pictures  of  pleasure,  as  though 
earthly  gratifications  could  satisfy  our 
longings. 

And  if  we  have  our  books  upon  ma- 
gic, have  we  not  also  the  scenes  and 
places  where  fallen  spirits  may  be  de- 
clared the  presiding  deities  ] — the  crowd- 
ed mart,  where  mammon  is  almost  liter- 
ally worshipped ;  the  gorgeous  theatre, 
where  the  very  air  is  that  of  voluptuous- 
ness ;  the  more  secret  haunts  of  licen- 
tiousness ;  the  mirthful  gatherings,  where 
the  great  object  is  to  forget  God ;  the 
philosophical,  where  the  chief  endeavor 
is  to  extol  man.  Indeed  it  must  not  be 
said  that  there  is  nothing  of  witchcraft 
going  on  around  us.  The  question  of 
the  Apostle  to  the  Galatians  has  lost 
none  of  its  force  :  "  Who  hath  bewitch- 
ed you,  that  ye  should  not  obey  the 
truth  ]  "  Nay,  not  only  may  every  un- 
converted man  be  declared,  in  some 
great  sense,  under  the  influence  of  sor- 
cery :  he  may  be  said  to  practise  sorcery  ; 
for  he  is  instrumental,  whether  by  his 
precept  or  his  example,  to  the  seducing 
others  into  sin,  and  confirming  their  at- 
tachment to  the  world. 

We  may,  then,  almost  literally  bring 
him,  if  he  think  himself  converted,  to 
the  test  furnished  by  the  conflagration 
of  which  we  read  in  our  text.  We  ask 
him  whether  he  feels,  and  manifests  a 
righteous  indignation  against  those  prac- 
tices and  pursuits  which  at  one  time  en- 
grossed his  affections  ]  Whatever  may 
have  been  his  peculiar  and  besetting  sin, 
is  it  that  sin  against  which  he  specially 
guards  1  is  it  that   sin  which   he  visits 


with  the  most  thorough  hatred  1  It  is 
comparatively  nothing  that  he  is  vigilant 
and  wrathful  against  other  sins — is  he 
vigilant  and  wrathful  against  the  favor- 
ite sin  ]  The  Ephesians  directed  their 
indignation  against  magic;  and  it  was 
magic  to  which  the  Ephesians  had  been 
specially  prone.  Have  we  proceeded 
on  the  same  principle]  One  man  is 
specially  acted  on  by  the  love  of  wealth  : 
is  it  the  love  of  wealth  against  which 
religion  has  made  him  specially  earnest  ] 
Another  is  more  disposed  to  the  pursuit 
of  honor :  is  it  ambition  against  which 
religion  has  most  roused  his  zeal  ]  A 
third  is  most  easily  overcome  by  his 
bodily  appetites  :  is  it  his  grand  effort, 
as  instructed  by  Christianity,  to  crucify 
"  the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts  1 " 
We  can  take  no  lesser  proof  of  sinceri- 
ty :  the  fire  must  be  made  with  the 
books  of  our  own  particular  art,  other- 
wise we  may  burn  library  upon  library, 
and  yet  furnish  no  evidence  of  conver- 
sion. 

And  in  this  respect,  even  had  we 
no  other  to  allege,  the  conduct  of  the 
Ephesians  reads  a  great  lesson  to  the 
men  of  every  age.  They  publicly  show- 
ed that  they  hated  and  abjured  the  sin 
which  they  were  publicly  known  to 
have  most  loved  and  practised.  It  was 
the  vehement  protest  of  the  covetous 
man  against  covetousness ;  of  the  li- 
centious against  licentiousness ;  of  the 
ambitious  against  ambition.  It  was  not 
the  protest  of  the  covetous  against  licen- 
tiousness ;  nor  of  the  licentious  against 
ambition.  There  is  ordinarily  little  diffi- 
culty in  gaining  such  a  protest  as  that. 
But  it  was  the  protest  of  the  awakened 
sinner  against  his  own  chosen  form  of 
sin ;  and  thousands  are  ready  to  protest 
against  all  but  their  own,  to  give  up  any 
other,  on  the  single  condition  of  keeping 
what  they  love  best.  Therefore,  judge 
ye  yourselves,  we  again  say,  by  your 
likeness  to  the  Ephesians.  Ye  have 
tampered,  in  one  sense,  like  them,  with 
sorcery.  Ye  have-  gone  down  to  the 
cave  of  the  enchantress,  and  ye  have 
drunk  of  that  cup  by  which  the  tempter 
hopes  to  steal  away  men's  faculties. 
Ye  had  your  books  in  which  ye  have 
studied  magic— whether  the  magic  by 
which  the  metal  and  the  jewel  may  be 
made  to  flow  into  your  coffers  ;  or  that 
by  which  ye  may  wreath  the  brow  with 
laurel ;  or  that  by  which  ye  may  fasci- 


28 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


nate  the  senses,  and  make  life  one  round 
of  luxurious  enjoyment.  But  ye  now 
think  that  religion  lias  hold  upon  you, 
and  that  ye  are  no  longer  what  ye  were. 
And  heartily  do  we  trust  that  you  are 
right  in  your  opinion,  and  that  there  is 
no  self-deceit.  .But  this  we  must  tell 
you — if  ye  be,  indeed,  converted,  the 
evidence  of  the  conversion  will  be  in  the 
manifested  abhorrence,  not  only  general- 
ly of  sin,  but  especially  of  that  sin  in 
which  you  most  indulged — oh,  you  will 
virtually  do  what  was  done  by  the  Ephe- 
sians,  who,  because  they  had  peculiarly 
provoked  God  by  the  practising  curious 
arts,  were  no  sooner  led  to  a  true  belief 
in  Christ,  than  they  "  brought  their  books 
together,  and  burned  them  before  all 
men." 

It  would,  however,  be  inferring  com- 
paratively very  little  from  this  action 
of  the  Ephesians,  were  we  to  regard  it 
only-  as  expressing  their  detestation  of 
their  favorite  sin.  We  may  justly  sup- 
pose that  they  had  their  safety  in  view, 
when  throwing  into  the  flames  the-  trea- 
tises on  magic.  They  might  have  pub-, 
licly  renounced  the  arts  which  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  practise,  without 
burning  the  rare  volumes  which  had 
initiated  them  into  their  mysteries.  They 
might  have  shut  up  these  volumes,  re- 
taining them  as  mere  literary  curiosities, 
though  resolving  never  again  to  refer 
to  them  for  instruction  in  witchcraft. 
But  there  would  have  been  a  want  of 
christian  prudence  in  this  ;  this  would 
have  kept  them  continually  exposed  to 
temptation  ;  and  it  was  in  their  not  doing 
this,  that  we  count  them  greatly  worthy 
of  being  admired  and  imitated.  It  is 
very  clear  that,  had  they  not  destroyed 
their  treatises  on  magic,  there  would  al- 
ways have  been  a  risk  of  their  returning 
to  their  study  :  it  was  not  unlikely  that, 
so  soon  as  the  first  heat  of  religion  had 
passed,  they  would  again  have  taken  up 
the  curious  books,  and  read  them  for 
recreation,  if  not  for  instruction.  We 
do  not  necessarily  suppose  that  they 
would  have  turned  to  them  with  any 
design  of  resuming  unlawful  practices  ; 
but  they  might  have  perused  them  as  a 
singular  species  of  literature,  from  which 
entertainment  might  be  drawn,  without 
any  surrender  of  the  persuasion  that 
they  taught  only  what  was  foul  and  un- 
hallowed. 

Yet  any  such  intention  of  making  any 


use  whatever  of  the  books,  would  have 
shown  a  sort  of  lurking  affection  for  what 
they  contained,  and  could  not,  at  least, 
have  been  carried  into  effect  without  risk 
of  the  being  seduced  back  into  the  prac- 
tice of  sorcery.  The  Ephesians,  there- 
fore, wisely  determined  to  put  themselves 
out  of  the  way  of  temptation  ;  and  this, 
you  observe,  they  effectually  did  by  burn- 
ing their  books  ;  for,  in  all  probability, 
those  books  were  not  to  be  replaced,  even 
had  they  wished  for  them  again  ;  there 
was  then  no  printing-press,  that  mighty 
engine  for  multiplying  evil  as  well  as 
good.  Thus  they  cut  themselves  off',  in 
a  very  high  degree,  from  the  possibility 
of  returning  to  their  divinations  and  en- 
chantments :  they  showed  a  wholesome 
distrust  of  their  own  strength  and  resolu- 
tion, and  proved  that,  with  real  christian 
prudence,  they  thought  it  better  to  shun 
than  to  brave  moral  peril. 

And  herein  did  they  become  a  great 
example  to  ourselves.  We  have  to  re- 
quire of  those  of  you  who  have  broken 
away  from  the  enchantments  and  fasci- 
nations of  the  world,  that  they  show  a 
like  zeal  in  avoiding  the  scenes  and  oc- 
casions of  temptation.  It  is  not  christian 
courage,  it  is  nothing  better  than  pre- 
sumption, when  a  man  unnecessarily  ex- 
poses himself  to  spiritual  danger,  as 
though  counting  himself  proof  against  as- 
sault, and  not  again  to  be  entangled  in 
things  once  abandoned.  When  we  are 
brought  into  temptation,  by  walking  the 
clear  path  of  duty,  we  have  the  best  rea- 
son to  expect  such  assistance  from  above 
as  shall  enable  us  to  hold  fast  our  integ- 
rity. But  if  we  be  not  in  the  clear  path 
of  duty  when  we  meet  the  temptation; 
if  it  be  through  our  own  choice  or  hardi- 
hood that  our  constancy  is  endangered  ; 
there  is  great  pi-obability  that  God  will 
suffer  us  to  fall,  if  only  to  teach  us  our 
feebleness,  and  our  need  of  stronger  cau- 
tion for  the  future.  God  permitted  not 
the  fire  to  singe  a  hair  of  the  heads  of  the 
three  Jewish  youths,  who  preferred  the 
being  cast  into  a  furnace  to  the  worship- 
ping an  idol ;  but  had  they  presump- 
tuously thrown  themselves  into  the  flames, 
in  place  of  having  been  enveloped  in 
them  for  the  maintenance  of  truth,  do 
you  think  that  the  like  miracle  would 
have  been  wrought  on  their  behalf]  And 
similarly  with  the  Ephesians,  it  might 
happen  to  them,  that  books  on  magic 
would  fall  in  their  way,  and  that  they 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


29 


would  be  tempted  to  peruse  their  unhal- 
lowed pages.  But  they  would  have  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  causing  this  temp- 
tation, and  might,  therefore,  expect  to  be 
strengthened  to  withstand  it.  But  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  had  kept  themselves 
in  the  way  of  temptation  by  preserving 
the  treatises,  they  would  have  had  only 
themselves  to  blame,  if,  as  in  all  likelihood 
it  would  have  happened,  they  had  been 
drawn  back  to  the  study,  and  perhaps 
even  the  practice,  of  unlawful  arts. 

Here,  therefore,  we  have  again  to  ply 
the  professing  christians  amongst  you 
with  the  question,  have  ye  burnt  your 
books  on  magic'?  Ye- will  readily  un- 
derstand the  precise  force  of  the  question, 
as  addressed  to  yourselves,  and  how  it 
must  be  modified  to  meet  a  difference  in 
circumstances.  As  we  before  said,  ye 
have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  arts  of 
the  sorcerer,  in  the  sense  in  which  those 
arts  were  practised  by  the  Ephesians. 
But  nevertheless  ye  have  lived  in  a  very 
atmosphere  of  witchery;  the  spell  has 
been  woven  over  you  and  around  you ; 
the  goi-geous  phantoms,  the  brilliant 
shadows,  with  which  evil  spirits  people 
the  world,  "  beguiling  unstable  souls," 
these  once  dazzled  and  allured  you, 
though  now  the  illusion  is  broken,  and  ye 
have  resolved  to  walk  henceforwards  by 
the  light  of  God's  word.  And  what  have 
ye  done  in  regard  of  sources  and  occa- 
sions of  temptation  '?  upon  what  princi- 
ple have  you  acted  with  respect  to  books, 
and  scenes,  and  practices,  which  expe- 
rience has  identified  with  the  artifices  of 
that  great  deceiver,  who  once  had  you 
altogether  in  his  power  ?  It  may  be 
that  one  of  you  was  half  inclined  to  infi- 
delity :  he  read  sceptical  books,  whose 
assertions  he  could  not  disprove,  and 
whose  sophistries  he  could  not  unravel 
— he  was  magician  enough  to  conjure 
up  doubts,  but  wanted  the  wand  of  truth 
wherewith  to  disperse  them.  Christian- 
ity, however,  has  been  presented  to  him 
with  that  overcoming  evidence  which  it 
wears,  when  preached  with  "demonstra- 
tion of  the  Spirit  and  of  power;  "  and  he 
has  put  away  all  unbelief,  and  cordially 
admitted  the  Gospel  as  a  message  from 
God.  But  what  has  he  done  with  the 
magical  books,  with  the  treatises  which 
entangled  him  in  the  maze  of  infidelity  1 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  preserving,  yea, 
as  reading  a  book  from  a  literary  motive, 
when  it  is  held  in  abhorrence  on  every 


other  account.  The  book  may  be  very 
rare,  or  very  eloquent ;  it  may  be  valuable 
for  its  style,  or  for  information  which  it 
contains,  though  unhappily  fraught  with 
Deistical  principles.  And  the  man,  on 
whom  the  book  once  acted  like  an  in- 
itiation into  sorcery,  forcing  him  into  a 
region  of  wild  cloud  and  shadow,  will, 
perhaps,  when  he  has  shaken  off  scepti- 
cism, study  the  book  afresh,  because  re 
lishing  its  beauty  of  diction,  or  wishing 
to  show  himself  proof  against  its  false- 
hoods. Ah  !  he  had  better  have  imitated 
the  Ephesians  :  he  is  fearfully  and  un- 
necessarily endangering  his  faith :  he 
should  rather  have  burnt  the  book  on 
magic  ;  he  should  have  done,  we  mean, 
his  best  to  put,  or  to  keep,  the  dangerous 
volume  out  of  reach. 

It  may  be  that  another  of  you  has 
lived  much  in  vice,  submitting  himself 
to  the  tyranny  of  his  passions,  and  walk- 
ing within  the  circles  of  what  is  falsely 
called  pleasure.  And  in  this  his  sensual 
career  he  has,  perhaps,  been  often  excited 
to  fresh  indulgence  by  the  licentious  writ- 
ings of  poets,  men  who  have  prostituted 
all  the  graces  of  song  to  the  service  of 
impurity.  It  is  one  of  the  foulest  and 
most  melancholy  of  facts,  that  writers  of 
extraordinary  genius,  not  to  be  surpass- 
ed in  the  play  of  imagination  and  the 
power  of  language,  have  desecrated  their 
talents  to  the  adorning  debauchery,  to  the 
throwing  a  grace  and  a  beauty  over  the 
abominations  of  vice.  And  it  must  be  a 
fatal  and  a  standing  reproach  on  our  liter- 
ature, that  it  contains  volumes  which  are 
almost  unrivalled  in  the  mere  article  of 
compostion,  rich  in  the  splendor  of  dic- 
tion, the  brilliancy  of  metaphor,  and  the 
pathos  of  description,  but  which  put  all 
modesty  to  the  blush,  and  but  few  frag- 
ments of  which  can  we  venture  to  place 
in  the  hands  of  our  children.  These  de- 
serve to  be  called  the  treatises  on  magic, 
when  it  is  the  wand  of  pleasure  which  evil 
spirits  wave.  It  is  beyond  calculation 
what  an  amount  of  viciousness  is  fostered 
in  a  land,  through  the  circulation  of  loose, 
but  beautiful,  poetry.  We  speak  not  of 
publications  which  can  be  only  sold  in 
secret,  and  the  venders  of  which  have 
only  to  become  known  to  be  punished 
by  law.  We  speak  of  those  to  which  no 
such  open  stigma  is  attached,  but  which 
are,  nevertheless,  as  instrumental  to  the 
fanning  base  passions,  aud  encouraging 
licentiousness,  as  the  more  indecent  and 


30 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


scandalous,  which  draw  upon  themselves 
judicial  condemnation.  There  is  many 
a  young  person  who  would  shrink  from 
gross  writings  with  a  sort  of  instinctive 
abhorrence,  but  who  is  not  proof  against 
the  seductions  of  voluptuous  poetry,  and 
to  whom,  therefore,  the  elegant  author, 
who  can  clothe  immorality  in  a  fascinating 
dress,  will  serve  as  a  sort  of  High  Priest 
of  vice,  though  he  might  have  been  dis- 
gusted by  any  of  its  less  polished  minis- 
ters. 

But  our  question  now  is,  what  does 
the  sensualist  do  with  the  magical  books, 
when  convinced,  by  the  urgency  of  Chris- 
tianity, of  the  duty  of  living  "soberly, 
righteously,  and  godly  in  the  world1?" 
Is  there  not  much,  even  amongst  those 
who  profess  an  utter  abhorrence  of  licen- 
tiousness, of  retaining,  and  reading,  for 
the  sake  of  their  exquisite  poetry,  works 
confessedly  immoral  in  their  tendency  ] 
Arc  not  the  graces  of  composition  accept- 
ed in  apology  for  the  deficiencies  in  prin- 
ciple ?  Does  not  many  a  man  tolerate, 
yea,  even  enjoy,  books  which,  in  a  re- 
ligious point  of  view,  he  utterly'  repu- 
diates, because  they  contain  passages  of 
unexampled  sublimity,  or  flash  through- 
out with  the  coruscations  of  genius  1 
We  have  only  to  say  upon  this,  that  the 
Ephesians  acted  more  nobly,  and  more 
wisely.  The  man,  who  has  once  been 
the  slave  of  his  passions,  and  who  has 
found  those  passions  excited  by  volup- 
tuous writings,  ought  never  again  to  open 
the  volumes,  as  though  he  might  now 
gather  the  beauties  of  poesy  without  im- 
bibing the  sentiments  of  impurity  :  the 
volumes  ought  to  be  to  him,  as  if  the 
only  copies  had  been  consumed  in  the 
flames — the  Ephesians  should  be  his  pat- 
tern, who  not  merely  abjured  what  they 
nad  learnt  to  be  wrong,  but  did  their  ut- 
most to  keep  themselves  out  of  reach, 
for  the  future,  of  the  temptations  by  which 
they  had  been  overcome. 

Anil,  without  confining  ourselves  to 
the  precise  caso  of  books,  what  is  your 
course  generally  in  regard  of  occasions 
of  sin,  of  places  and  occupations  which 
you  have  found  detrimental  to  religion  1 
Do  you  make  a  point  of  shunning  what 
you  have  discovered  to  be  injurious'? 
or  (1  i  you  venture  on  a  repetition,  in  the 
confidence  of  being  too  strong  to  be  again 
injured  !  The  associates  who  encour- 
aged you  in  sin,  whilst  careless  of  the 
soul — have  you  given  them  up,  now  that 


you  are  anxious  for  the  soul  1  or  do  you 
act  on  the  supposition,  that  there  is  no 
further  fear  of  your  being  carried  away 
by  the  force  of  companionship  ]  You 
found  that  worldly  amusements — the 
theatre,  with  its  licentious  accompani- 
ments; the  masquerade  and  the  dance, 
with  their  frivolity  at  least,  if  not  their 
sinfulness;  the  card-table,. with  its  trial 
of  temper,  even  where  it  did  not  excite 
the  spirit  of  gambling — you  found  that 
these  warred  against  the  soul,  whilst  you 
were  yet  unconverted  ;  but  what  have 
you  done  as  a  proof  and  result  of  con- 
version 1  Have  you  striven,  to  the  best 
of  your  power,  to  place  barriers  between 
yourselves  and  these  amusements'?  or 
are  you  still  partaking  of  them,  only  in 
less  measure,  and  with  a  diminished 
affection  1 

Or,  once  more,  if  it  were  for  wealth 
that  you  had  dealings  with  the  sorceier, 
dedicating  every  moment  and  energy  to 
the  arts  by  which  gold  may  be  multi- 
plied, how  have  you  acted  since  the 
grace  of  God,  as  you  think,  brought  you 
to  love  and  seek  everlasting  treasures  % 
Have  you  put  from  you  what  was  too 
engrossing  in  occupation  ]  or  are  you 
still  engaged  as  ever  in  the  witchcraft  of 
money-making  1 

You  can  hardly  fail  to  understand  the 
drift  of  these  questions.  The  thing 
which  we  wish  impressed  upon  you  is, 
that,  whatever  may  have  been  your  do- 
minant passion  before  conversion,  your 
great  effort,  in  proof  of  conversion,  should 
be  the  cutting  yourselves  off  from  tempta- 
tions to  the  gratifying  that  passion.  We 
care  not  what  enchantment  you  most 
practised ;  or  by  what  you  were  most 
beguiled  :  your  endeavor  should  be,  to 
keep  yourselves  as  much  as  possible  out 
of  the  sphere  of  that  enchantment  ;  not 
exposing  yourselves  to  its  influence,  as 
though  its  power  were  gone,  but  placing 
yourselves  beyond  its  reach,  as  though 
your  weakness  remained.  And  if  ever 
we  see  a  man,  who  has  been  delivered 
from  the  meshes  of  infidelity,  still  fond 
of  studying  sceptical  writings ;.  or  an- 
other, who  has  been  won  from  licentious- 
ness, adventuring  into  the  haunts  of  dis- 
sipation; or  a  third,  whose  idol  was  gold, 
taking  no  pains  to  withdraw  from  the 
atmosphere  of  covetousness ;  or  a 
fourth,  whom  evil  companions  had  se- 
duced, braving  the  charm  of  old  asso- 
ciation— oh,  we  cannot  but  greatly  fear 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


31 


for  such  a  man,  that  his  contempt  of 
danger  will  make  him  its  victim;  that, 
by  not  detaching  himself  at  once  from 
occasions  and  scenes  of  temptation,  he 
has  but  insured  relapses  and  backslid- 
ings  ;  we  can  but  desire  that  he  had  taken 
the  Ephesians  as  his  model,  who  no 
sooner  renounced  magic,  than,  as  though 
fearful  of  being  again  entangled  in  its 
study,  and  distrusting  themselves  while 
they  had  access  to  its  rules,  "  brought 
their  books  together,  and  burned  them 
before  all  men." 

But  there  is  yet  another  point  of  view 
under  which  we  may  survey  the  conduct 
of  the  Ephesians,  and  find  in  it  a  test  of 
the  genuineness  of  conversion.  We 
have  spoken  of  the  burning  of  the 
magical  books  as  proving  detestation  of  a 
favorite  sin,  and  earnestness  in  avoiding 
the  being  again  tempted  to  its  commis- 
sion. But  we  may  allow  that  other 
ways  might  have  been  found  in  which  to 
express  abhorrence  of  sorcery  ;  and  that, 
perhaps,  some  of  the  Ephesians  might 
have  retained  the  books  in  their  posses- 
sion, without  much  risk  of  resuming  the 
unlawful  studies.  Yet  if  equal  detesta- 
tion might  have  been  otherwise  shown, 
and  if  no  personal  risk  whatsoever  had 
been  run,  we  should  still  have  to  applaud, 
and  point  out  for  imitation,  that  action 
of  the  Ephesians  which  stands  recorded 
in  our  text.  So  long  as  the  books  were 
preserved,  there  was  of  course  no  secu- 
rity against  their  falling  into  the  hands 
of  unstable  persons,  who  would  be 
tempted  by  them  to  the  engaging  in  the 
trade  of  the  magician.  But  by  actually 
destroying  the  books,  the  most  effectual 
means  were  taken  to  prevent  the  spread 
of  the  study  of  sorcery  ;  for  as  we  have 
already  remarked,  there  was  then  no 
printing-press  to  multiply  indefinitely  the 
copies  of  a  work.  The  books  must  have 
been  manuscripts,  produced  with  great 
care,  and  procured  at  large  cost.  In  our 
own  day,  indeed,  very  little  would  in  most 
cases  be  gained  by  the  burning  our  copy 
of  an  improper  book.  We  should  not 
thereby  necessarily  do  much,  if  any 
thing,  towards  preventing  the  work  from 
finding  its  way  into  the  possession  of 
others.  But  it  was  very  different,  as  you 
must  all  perceive,  before  the  invention 
of  printing  ;  and  it  is  highly  probable 
that  the  christian  converts  could  have 
done  nothing  more  instrumental  to  the 
suppression  of  magic  in  Ephesus,  than 


the  consigning  to  the  flames  the  booka 
on  curious  arts  which  they  respectively 
owned.  It  was  going  far  towards  de- 
stroying the  grammars  and  dictionaries 
of  the  cabalistic  language,  and  thus 
leaving  those,  who  might  wish  to  learn 
witchcraft,  deprived  of  the  common 
means  of  ascertaining  its  elements.  And 
we  suppose,  accordingly,  that  the  Ephe- 
sians were  greatly  actuated  by  this 
motive  :  it  was  not  enough  for  them, 
either  that  they  had  themselves  adjured 
magic,  or  were  not  themselves  likely  to 
be  again  injured  by  the  books:  they 
had  respect  to  the  welfare  of  others ; 
and  feeling  that  this  welfare  might  be 
endangered  by  the  magical  volumes, 
they  threw  without  reserve  those  vol- 
umes into  the  flames,  though  their  price, 
when  counted,  was  found  to  be  "  fifty 
thousand  pieces  of  silver." 

And  here  we  have  again  to  declare  the 
Ephesians  an  example,  and  to  ply  you 
with  the  question,  Have  you,  from  the 
like  motive,  burnt  your  books  on  magic1? 
There  is  no  better  test  of  the  genuine- 
ness of  conversion,  than  earnestness  in 
seeking  the  conversion  of  others.  It 
cannot  be  that  a  man  has  been  brought 
to  a  sense  of  his  sinfulness,  of  the  dan- 
ger to  which  as  a  sinner  he  is  exposed, 
and  of  the  provision  made  by  Christ  for 
his  deliverance,  and  yet  is  indifferent  to 
the  condition  of  those  who  live  "  without 
hope,  and  without  God  in  the  world." 
There  is  the  widest  possible  separation 
between  vital  Christianity  and  whatso- 
ever has  alliance  with  selfishness  ;  vital 
Christianity  is  a  generous,  expansive 
thing :  the  man  of  the  world  may  be 
willing  to  keep  earthly  riches  to  himself; 
the  man  of  God  must  be  anxious  to 
communicate  heavenly  to  others.  In 
spiritual  things,  anxiety  does  not  termi- 
nate with  the  securing  our  own  safety  : 
it  is  rapidly  transferred  to  others;  and 
when  humbly  confident  of  being  "  begot- 
ten again  to  a  lively  hope,"  we  shall  be 
painfully  solicitous  to  make  those  around 
us  fellow-heirs  of  the  promise.  One  of 
the  strongest  feelings  in  the  converted 
man,  is  that  the  great  things  done  for 
him  by  God  bind  him  to  attempt  great 
things  in  return  :  as  he  looks  upon  those 
who  still  sit  "  in  darkness  and  the  shadow 
of  death,"  the  light  with  which  he  has 
been  visited,  will  seem  to  him  given  on 
purpose  to  be  diffused. 

The  Ephesians,  as  we  think,  quite  sat- 


32 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


isfied  this  test  of  conversion  when  they 
burnt  their  magical  books.  It  was  the 
action  by  which,  as  we  have  shown  you, 
more  was  clone  than  could  perhaps  have 
else  been  achieved,  towards  preventing 
others  from  engaging  in  practices  which 
themselves  had  found  most  pernicious. 
So  that  the  flames,  in  which  they  con- 
sumed their  treatises  on  witchcraft,  were 
the  best  tokens  of  the  ardency  of  their 
love  for  the  souls  of  their  fellow-men. 
Have  you  given  any  thing  of  a  like  to- 
ken 1  Where  are  your  books  upon 
magic  1  What  have  you  done  towards 
keeping  others  from  the  sins  to  whose 
commission  you  were  yourselves  most 
addicted  1  For  what  has  been  most  in- 
jurious to  yourselves,  you  will  naturally 
feel  likely  to  be  most  injurious  to  others, 
and  it  will  thei-efore  be  that  against 
which  you  will  most  strive  to  put  others 
on  their  guard.  The  man,  once  tinctured 
with  infidelity,  will  be  zealous  in  sup- 
pressing sceptical  writings,  and  diffusing 
their  refutation.  The  man  who  has 
lived  in  licentiousness,  will  be  so  earnest 
in  nothing  as  in  discountenancing  vice 
and  promoting  morality.  The  man  who 
was  injured  by  bad  company,  will  do  all 
in  his  power  to  keep  the  unwary  from 
evil  associations.  The  man  who  has 
experienced  the  hurtfulness  of  public 
amusements,  will  be  urgent  against 
places  and  diversions  which  he  found 
full  of  peril.  The  man  who  was  likely 
to  have  been  ruined  through  covetous- 
ness,  will  warn  others,  above  all  things, 
against  the  love  of  money.  And  in  these 
or  similar  cases,  the  thing  done  is  pre- 
cisely what  was  done  by  the  Ephesians : 
the  books  on  magic  are  burnt,  with  the 
distinct  view  of  keeping  others  from 
practising  magic  :  individuals  do  their 
best  to  put  down  or  obstruct  that  par- 
ticular form  of  evil  which  proved  most 
entangling  and  detrimental  to  them- 
selves. 

Let  those  of  you  who  think  them- 
selves converted,  try  by  this  test  the 
genuineness  of  their  conversion.  Each 
must  well  know  the  sin  to  which  he  was 
most  inclined,  and  by  which  his  salva- 
tion was  most  endangered  ;  is  he,  then, 
all  anxiety  to  keep  others  from  that  sin, 
aud  to  remove  from  them  temptations 
to  its  commission]  The  converted  man 
is  not  oidy  desirous  to  prevent  sin  in  gen- 
eral;  he  is  specially  desirious  to  prevent 
that  sin  which  was  once  his  besetting  sin  ; 


to  guard  men  against  it  and  to  cut  off  its 
occasions.  This  is  what  we  call  burn- 
ing the  books  on  magic — the  acting  with 
the  set  design  of  withholding  others 
from  what  has  been  peculiarly  hurtful 
to  ourselves.  And  if  the  man  who  was 
injured  by  sceptical  writings  manifest 
no  special  zeal  against  infidelity  ;  or  if 
he,  who  was  in  bondage  to  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh,  be  not  foremost  in  opposing 
licentiousness  ;  or  if  another,  who  had 
almost  shipwrecked  himself  for  eternity 
in  the  theatre,  or  at  the  gaming-table, 
be  not  energetic  in  withdrawing  others 
from  haunts  of  dissipation  ;  or  general- 
ly, if  an  individual,  who  was  all  but  lost 
through  living  in  a  certain  sin,  take  no 
earnest  measures  for  preventing  those 
around  him  from  committing  that  sin  ; 
oh,  we  are  bound  to  fear  for  such  a  man, 
that  he  does  but  deceive  himself,  when 
thinking  that  he  has  undergone  a  great 
moral  change,-  and  we  must  urge  upon 
him  the  comparing  himself  with  the 
Ephesians  of  old,  who  were  no  sooner 
brought  to  faith  in  the  Savior,  than,  ani- 
mated with  desire  to  suppress  the  arts 
which  had  endangered  their  souls,  they 
collected  their  books,  and  threw  them 
into  the  flames,  though,  when  the  price 
of  them  was  counted,  "  they  found  it 
fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver." 

Our  concluding  remarks  on  the  burn- 
ing the  treatises  on  sorcery,  will  be  of 
a  somewhat  different  texture  from  the 
foregoing.  The  epistle  which  St.  Paul 
wrote  to  the  Ephesians  about  four  years 
after  this  event,  is  among  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  valuable  portions  of  the  New 
Testament.*  It  is  not,  as  is  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  or  that  to  the  Hebrews, 
a  great  controversial  treatise  ;  it  is  a  let- 
ter to  those  who,  having  been  well  ini- 
tiated into  Christianity,  and  grounded 
in  its  fundamental  principles,  might  be 
conducted  to  its  more  secret  depths,  or 
admitted  into  acquaintance  with  its  pro- 
founder  mysteries.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  part  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  in 
which  the  elements  of  christian  truth 
are  more  assumed  as  placed  beyond 
controversy,  and  in  which,  therefore,  the 
Apostle  seems  to  feel  more  at  liberty  to 
descant  on  sublime  things,  and  unfold 
glorious  wonders.  If  it  be  lawful,  in 
speajting  of  Scripture,  to  draw  such  a 
distinction,    we     should     say    that    the 


'Knox's  Correspondence. 


THE  PARTING  HYMN. 


33 


Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  is  among  the 
most  spiritual  of  the  inspired  writings, 
throwing  open,  in  an  uncommon  degree, 
the  very  recesses  of  the  Gospel,  and 
presenting  such  heights  of  christian 
doctrine  as,  after  all  our  soarings,  still 
lose  themselves  in  the  clouds. 

And  it  has  been  justly  pointed  out, 
as  singularly  worthy  of  observation, 
that  it  was  to  men  who  had  burnt  their 
books  on  curious  arts  that  an  epistle 
was  indited,  so  replet*  with  what  is 
most  wonderful,  most  beautiful,  most 
profound,  in  Christianity.  If  you  will 
allow  us  the  expression,  it  was  like  re- 
paying them  in  kind.  The  Ephesians 
had  abandoned  the  mysteries  of  sorce- 
ry and  astrology  :  at  the  bidding  of  the 
Apostle  they  had  renounced  unhallow- 
ed modes  of  prying  into  the  secrets  of 
the  invisible  world  ;  and  they  were  re- 
compensed by  being  led  to  the  inner- 
most shrines  of  truth,  and  permitted 
to  behold  glories  which  were  veiled 
from  common  gaze.  They  gave  up  the 
astrology,  which  is  busied  with  stars 
that  shall  be  quenched,  and  lo,  "  the 
Sun  of  righteousness "  rose  on  them 
with  extraordinary  effulgence ;  they  re- 
nounced the  magic  which  would   con- 


jure up  strange  forms,  and  a  rod,  liko 
that  of  Moses,  was  stretched  forth,  peo- 
pling the  whole  universe  with  images 
of  splendor ;  they  abjured  the  necro- 
mancy, which  sought  to  extort  from  the 
dead  revelations  of  the  future,  and  the 
very  grave  became  luminous,  and  its 
ashes  glowed  for  them  with  immor- 
tality. 

Learn  ye  from  thi3,  that  ye  cannot 
give  up  any  thing  for  God,  and  be  lo- 
sers by  the  surrender.  The  loss  is  al- 
ways far  more  than  made  up,  and,  per- 
haps, often  by  the  communication  of 
something  which  resembles,  whilst  it 
immeasurably  excels,  what  you  part 
with.  Never  stay,  then,  to  compute 
the  cost:  the  Ephesians  do  not  seem  to 
have  computed  it  before  they  burnt  their 
books,  though  they  computed  it  after — 
and  then,  not  in  regret,  but  only  to  dis- 
play the  triumph  of  the  Gospel.  Let 
the  cost  be  "  fifty  thousand  pieces  of 
silver  :  "  hesitate  not  to  make  the  sacri- 
fice for  God,  and  you  shall  find  your- 
selves a  hundred-fold  recompensed : 
like  the  Ephesians,  if  you  forsake  magic, 
because  God  hath  forbidden  it,  ye  shall 
be  initiated  into  mysteries  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  alone  can  reveal. 


SERMON   IV. 


THE  PARTING  HYMN. 


And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives." — Matthew  xxvi.  30. 


These  words  refer,  as  you  are  proba- 
bly all  aware,  to  the  conclusion  of  our 
Lord's  last  supper  with  his  disciples, 
when,  having  instituted  a  sacrament 
which  was  to  take  the  place  of  the  Pass- 
over, he  went  forth  to  meet  the  suffer- 
ings through  which  the  world  should 
be  redeemed.  The  evangelist  St.  John 
Vol.  II. 


does  not  give  any  account  of  the  institu- 
tion of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  but  he  records  sundry  most  im- 
portant discourses  which  Christ  deliver- 
ed at  this  time  to  his  afflicted  disciples. 
It  is  prcbable  that  a  portion  of  these 
discourses  was  uttered  immediately  after 
the  institution  of  the  Sacrament,  and 
5 


31 


THE  PARTING    HYMN. 


before  our  Lord  quitted  the  chamber  in 
•which  he  had  supped  with  his  followers. 
The  remainder  are  generally  thought  to 
have  been  delivered  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  to  which  Christ  first  went,  as  is 
stated  in  our  text,  and  from  which,  as 
the  night  advanced,  he  retired  with 
Peter,  and  James,  and  John,  to  Gethse- 
mane,  that  he  might  undergo  mysterious 
acony,  and  meet  in  dread  conflict  the 
powers  of  darkness.  But,  to  whatever 
times  and  places  we  may  affix  the  seve- 
ral discourses  preserved  by  St.  John, 
there  is  every  reason  to  think  that  our 
text  relates  the  last  thing  which  occur- 
red in  the  room  where  the  supper  had 
been  eaten ;  that,  so  soon  as  the  hymn, 
or  psalm,  had  been  sung,  our  Lord  left 
the  room,  that  he  might  give  himself  to 
the  enemies  who  thirsted  for  his  blood. 
Opportunity  may  have  been  afterwards 
found  of  fortifying  still  further  the 
minds  of  the  disciples  ;  but  we  are  to 
consider  that  the  singing  of  the  hymn 
was  the  last  thing  done  at  Christ's  last 
supper,  and  that,  this  having  been  done, 
the  blessed  Redeemer,  as  one  who  knew 
that  his  hour  was  come,  forthwith  de- 
parted to  suffer  and  to  die. 

And  what  was  the  hymn,  or  psalm, 
chanted  at  so  fearful  and  melancholy  a 
moment'?  There  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  our  Lord  swerved  from  the  custom 
of  the  Jews  ;  he  had  commemorated  the 
Passover  as  it  was  then  wont  to  be  com- 
memorated by  his  countrymen  ;  and  we 
may  justly,  therefore,  conclude  that  he 
Bung  what  they  were  used  to  sing  in 
finishing  the  solemn  celebration.  When 
the  Passover  was  instituted,  on  the  event- 
ful night  of  the  destruction  of  the  first- 
born of  the  Egyptians,  various  forms  and 
practices  were  enjoined,  as  you  find  re- 
lated in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  the  Book 
of  Exodus.  But  in  after-times,  especial- 
ly in  those  of  our  Savior,  when  traditions 
had  come  to  their  height,  numerous  cir- 
cumstances were  added  to  the  celebra- 
tion, so  that  the  original  rites  formed  but 
a  small  part  of  what  were  practised  by 
the  Jews.*  And  learned  men  have  well 
observed  that  the  New  Testament,  in 
several  places,  refers  to  certain  of  these 
additional  circumstances,  leaving  us  to 
infer  that  Christ,  commemorated  the  Pass- 
over as  it  was  then  ordinarily  commem- 
orated, without  rejecting  such  customs 

'See  LiiHitfootonthe  celebration  of  the  Passover. 


as  could  not  distinctly  plead  the  authority 
of  the  law.  Thus,  for  example,  at  the 
first  Passover  in  Egypt,  the  strict  injunc- 
tion had  been,  that  they  should  eat  it 
"  with  their  loins  girded,  their  shoes  on 
their  feet,  their  staves  in  their  hands,  and 
in  haste."  The  posture  enjoined  and 
practised  corresponded  accurately  with 
their  condition,  that  of  men  about  to  be 
thrust  forth  from  the  country,  and  to  enter 
on  a  toilsome  and  difficult  march.  But  af- 
terwards the  Jg3ws  altered  the  posture, 
that  it  might  answer  better  to  their  alter- 
ed circumstances.  At  their  common 
meals  the  Jews  either  sat,  as  we  do,  with 
their  bodies  erect,  or  reclined  on  couches, 
with  the  left  elbow  on  the  table.  But 
on  the  Passover  night  they  considered 
themselves  obliged  to  use  the  recumbent 
position,  because  it  marked,  as  they 
thought,  their  freedom  and  composure. 
Now  it  is  evident,  that  in  this  our  Lord 
conformed  to  the  custom  of  the  Jews  : 
the  beloved  disciple,  John,  leant  on  his 
bosom  during  the  repast,  from  which  we 
infer,  at  once,  that  Christ  and  bis  Apos- 
tles reclined  in  the  eating  the  Passover. 
To  give  another  instance.  The  eating 
of  unleavened  bread  at  this  time  was  en- 
joined by  a  special  and  express  command, 
which  you  find  in  the  Book  of  Exodus ; 
but  nothing  is  there  said  as  to  the  use  of 
wine  at  the  Passover.  Subsequently, 
however,  the  drinking  wine  at  the  Pass- 
over came  to  be  considered  as  indispen- 
sable as  the  eating  the  unleavened  bread. 
We  find  it  expressly  stated  by  the  Rab- 
binical writers,  that  "the  poorest  man 
in  Israel  was  bound  to  drink  off  four  cups 
of  wine  this  night,  yea,  though  he  lived 
of  the  alms-basket."  Now  it  is  very 
clear  that  our  Lord  and  his  disciples 
made  use  of  wine  at  the  Passover  :  nay, 
Christ  may  be  said  to  have  given  a  direct 
sanction  to  what  might  have  been  re- 
garded as  the  innovation  of  tradition  ;  for 
he  took  the  cup  which  men  had  introduc- 
ed into  the  paschal  supper,  and  conse- 
crated it  in  perpetual  memorial  of  his 
own  precious  blood.  In  like  manner, 
with  regard  to  the  singing  of  a  psalm  or 
hymn — there  is  nothing  said  in  the  Book 
of  Exodus  as  to  the  concluding  the  pas- 
chal supper  with  any  such  act,  yet  the 
custom  was  introduced  in  process  of  time, 
and  the  Jews  made  a  point  of  singing 
the  hundred  and  thirteenth  and  the  five 
following  Psalms,  Psalms  which  are  said 
to  have  been  selected,  not  only  because 


THE  PARTING    HYMN. 


85 


containing,  in  the  general,  high  and  emi- 
nent memorials  of  God's  goodness  and 
deliverance  unto  Israel,  but  because  they 
record  these  five  great  things,  "  the  com- 
ing out  of  Egypt,  the  dividing  of  the  sea, 
the  giving  of  the  law,  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead,  and  the  lot  of  Messias." 
These  psalms  were  repeated,  or  chanted, 
on  other  occasions  besides  that  of  the 
Passover — as  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost, 
and  on  the  eight  days  of  the  feast  of  Ded- 
ication. But  at  no  time  was  their  use 
more  strictly  observed  than  on  the  night 
of  the  Passover,  though  they  were  not 
then  all  sung'at  once,  but  rather  dispers- 
ed over  the  service ;  only  so  that,  when 
the  last  cup  of  wine  was  filled,  the  con- 
cluding psalms  were  sung  ;  and  thus  the 
solemnities  terminated  with  the  chant, 
"Thou  art  my  God,  and  I  will  praise 
thee  ;  thou  art  my  God,  I  will  exalt  thee. 
O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  is 
good,  for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 
As  we  are  expressly  told  that  Christ  con- 
cluded the  Passover  with  a  psalm  or 
hymn,  we  cannot  well  doubt,  that,  having 
conformed  in  other  respects  to  the  exist- 
ing customs  of  the  Jews,  he  conformed 
also  in  this ;  and  that,  consequently,  the 
words  which  he  sung  with  his  disciples 
were  the  words  then  ordinarily  used  in 
the  solemn  commemoration  of  the  deliver- 
ance from  Egypt.  We  shall  assume  this 
through  the  remainder  of  our  discourse  ; 
so  that  if,  over  and  above  the  fact  of  a 
hymn  having  been  sung,  we  have  occa- 
sion to  refer  to  the  subject-matter  of  the 
hymn,  we  shall  turn  to  the  psalms  which 
constituted  what  the  Jews  called  the 
Hallel,  from  the  repetition  of  the  word 
"Hallelujah,"  and  seek  in  them  for  the 
expressions  which  were  woven  into  the 
anthem  of  our  Lord  and  his  Apostles. 

There  are  many  truths  which  present 
themselves  to  the  mind,  when  it  duly 
ponders  the  simple  statement  of  the  text. 
Our  foregoing  remarks,  bearing  merely 
on  the  fact  that  Christ  conformed  to  the 
innovations  of  the  Jews,  will  only  help 
us  to  the  making  one  use,  though  an  im- 
portant one,  of  the  passage.  We  shall 
rind,  however,  as  we  proceed,  that  what 
we  may  have  been  used  to  pass  by,  as 
the  bare  announcement  of  a  fact  but  little 
interesting  to  ourselves,  is  fraught  with 
rich  and  varied  instruction.  Let  us  then 
employ  ourselves  without  anticipating 
any  further  the  lessons  to  be  extracted, 
in  considering:  whether,  as  with  all  other 


Scripture,  it  were  not  for  our  admonition 
and  instruction  in  righteousness,  that  the 
sacred  historian,  having  given  us  the  ac- 
count of  the  last  supper,  was  directed  to 
record  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  that 
"  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn,  they  went 
out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives." 

Now  the  first  important  truth  on  which 
we  would  speak,  as  enforced  or  illustrat- 
ed by  the  passage  under  review,  is  that 
to  which  our  introductory  remarks  have 
all  tended,  that  our  blessed  Lord,  by  con- 
forming to  certain  customs  of  the  Jews 
in  the  eating  of  the  Passover,  gave  his 
sanction  to  ceremonies  which  may  not  be 
able  to  plead  a  divine  institution.  We 
have  shown  you  that  it  was  not  only  in 
the  singing  of  psalms,  but  in  many  other 
particulars,  such  as  the  recumbent  pos- 
ture, and  the  drinking  of  wine,  that  the 
Jews  had  altered,  or  added  to,  the  origi- 
nal practice,  but  that  our  Savior  made  no 
objection  to  the  alteration  or  addition. 
He  celebrated  the  Passover  just  as  he 
found  it  then  used  to  be  celebrated,  sub- 
mitting, so  to  speak,  to  tradition  and  cus- 
tom. And  yet,  had  there  been  any  thing 
of  a  captious  spirit,  there  might  perhaps 
have  been  matter  for  doubt  or  disputa- 
tion. It  might  have  been  urged,  with 
some  show  of  justice,  that  the  innovations 
were  not  necessarily  in  keeping  with  the 
character  of  the  ordinance  ;  that  the  re- 
cumbent posture,  for  example,  and  the 
drinking  of  wine,  as  betokening,  or  ac- 
cording with,  security  and  gladness, 
scarcely  suited  the  commemoration  of 
events  which  had  been  marked  by  hurry, 
agitation,  and  alarm.  And  with  regard 
even  to  the  singing  of  psalms — if  it  had 
been  admitted  that  the  occasion  was  one 
which  would  well  warrant  the  praising 
God  with  loud  anthems,  it  might  still 
have  been  asked,  Why  use  these  par- 
ticular psalms  1  Have  we  not  the  Song  of 
Miriam,  which,  as  composed  immediate- 
ly after  the  deliverance  from  Egypt, 
would  be  far  more  appropriate  1  or  have 
we  not  the  song  of  Moses  1  and  would 
not  the  song  of  the  leader,  through  whom 
the  Passover  was  instituted,  and  the 
emancipation  achieved,  remind  us  better 
of  what  we  owe  to  God,  than  the  words 
of  one  who  lived  long  after  the  recorded 
events,  when  we  were  settled  as  a  na- 
tion, and  not  wanderers  in  the  desert1? 

We  think  there  would  have  been  no 
difficulty  in  thus  making  out,  so  to  speak, 
a  sort  of  plausible  case  against  the  in- 


36 


THE   PARTING  HYMN*. 


novations  of  die  Jews  in  the  Passover 
service.  Had  our  Lord  been  a  leader, 
disposed  to  make  ceremonies  the  occa- 
sion of  schism, he  might  have  armed  him- 
■.  ith  very  specious  objections,  and 
have  urged  thai  there  were  conscientious 
grounds  for.separating  from  the  commun- 
ion of  the  national  church.  But  it  is  evi- 
dent that   our   blessed    Savior  ackuow- 

I  a  power  in  the  church  of  decree- 
ing rites  and  ceremonies,  and  of  cha 
those  riles  and  ceremonies  "according 
i r  thirty-fourth  Article  expresses  it) 
of  countries,  times,  and 
men's  manners,  so  that  nothing  be  or- 
dained against  God's  word."  He  did 
not  require  that  every  ceremony  should 

le  to  plead  a  positive  command  in 
the  Bible,  nor  that  it  should  prove  itself 
modelled  after  the  original  practice. 
Had  he  done  this,  it  is  manifest  that  he 
must  have  objected  to  the  ceremonies  in 
the  celebration  of  the  Passover;  for 
they  could  nol  plead  a  divine  institution, 
were  rather  at  variance  than  in  ac- 
cordance with  what  had  been  at  first 
appointed  or  observed.  But  we  may 
justly  conclude  that  our  Lord  proceed- 
ed on  what  (were  it  not  for  modern 
cavils)  we  might  call  a  self-evident  prin- 
ciple, that  rites  and  ceremonies  are  not 
in  themselves  any  part  of  the  public 
worship  of  God;  they  are  nothing  but 
circumstances  and  customs  to  be  observ- 
ed in  the  conducting  that  worship,  and 
may  therefore  be  enacted  and  altered  as 
shall  seem  best  to  the  church.  Had  the 
innovations  of  the  Jews  interfered,  in 
any  measure,  with  the  character  of  the 
Passover  as  a  religious  ordinance,  had 
they  at  all  opposed  its  commemorative 
office,  or  militated  against  it  as  a  sacri- 
fice and  a  sacrament,  we  cannot  doubt 
that  Christ  would  have  entered  his  pro- 
test, that  he  would  never  have  given  the 
sanction  of  his  example  to  what  would 
have  been  a  corruption  of  the  worship 
of  God.  This,  however,  is  more  than 
can  justly  be  affirmed  of  any  mere  rite 
or  ceremony;  for  rites  or  ceremonies, 
so  long  as  they  are  not  against  Scrip- 
ture, must  be  regarded  as  indifferent 
things,  neither  good  in  themselves  nor 
bad;  and  if  they  are  indifferent,  they 
may  be  omitted,  or  introduced,  or  chang- 
ed, without  at  all  affecting  the  act 
of  divine  worship,  and  merely  in  con- 
formity, according  to  diversity  of  cir- 
cumstances, with  the  rule  of  the  Apostle, 


"  Let  all  things  be  done  decently  and  in 
order." 

Perhaps  the  Jews,  in  changing  the 
posture  in  which  the  Passover  was  to  be 
eaten,  went  as  near  to  an  interference 
with  the  ordinance  itself  as  any  mere 
rite  or  ceremony  could  go  ;  for  it  might 
have  been  urged  that  a  different,  if  not 
an  untrue,  character  was  given  to  the 
ordinance,  the  aspect  of  composedness 
and  rest  having  been  made  to  take  the 
,  place  of  that  of  haste  and  agitation.  But 
you  are  to  remember  that  the  circum- 
stances of  the  Israelites  were  really 
changed  ;  the  Passover,  as  to  be  com- 
memorated in  after  times,  found  them  in 
a  very  altered  position  from  what  they 
had  occupied  when  the  Passover  was 
originally  instituted  ;  and  the  new  rites, 
which  they  introduced,  did  but  corres- 
pond to  this  new  position ;  they  inter- 
fered neither  with  the  slaying  nor  with 
the  eating  of  the  lamb  ;  they  were  only 
so  far  different  from  the  old  as  to  indi- 
cate what  was  matter  of  fact  in  regard 
of  the  Jews,  that,  as  their  fathers  eat 
the  Passover  in  a  night  of  disaster  and 
death,  themselves  were  allowed,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  to  eat  of  it  in  security 
and  gladness.  And  it  can  hardly  fail 
to  strike  you,  that,  in  such  an  alteration, 
when  distinctly  sanctioned  by  the  prac- 
tice of  our  Lord,  we  have  a  precedent 
for  changes  which  the  church  may  have 
introduced  into  the  ceremonials  of  reli- 
gion. Take,  for  example,  a  case  which 
•  bears  close  resemblance  to  that  just  con- 
:  sidered.  When  the  Sacrament  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  originally  instituted, 
the  Apostles  sat  or  reclined  in  the  re- 
■  ceiving  it ;  whereas  it  is  now  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  church  that  we  should 
|  kneel  to  receive  it.  There  has  been, 
\  that  is,  much  of  the  same  departure  from 
the  first  practice  as  in  the  instance  of  the 
Passover.  And  if  by  the  act  of  kneeling 
we  offered  any  adoration  to  the  bread  and 
the  wine,  as  though  we  supposed  them 
substantially  changed  into  Christ's  body 
and  blood,  it  is  evident  that  the  alteration 
J  in  the  ceremony  would  be  an  infringe- 
I  ment  of  the  Sacrament  itself,  and  that  no 
church  would  have  right  to  substitute 
the  kneeling  for  the  sitting.  But  the 
kneeling  at  the  Communion,  as  we  are 
expressly  taught  by  the  church,  is  meant 
only  "  for  a  signification  of  our  humble 
and  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the 
benefits  of  Christ   therein  given  to  all 


THE  PARTING  HYMN. 


r;7 


worthy  receivers;"  and  the  alteration 
may  therefore  be  said  to  be  just  such  as 
was  made  by  the  Jews  in  respect  of  the 
Passover — an  alteration  corresponding 
to  altered  circumstances  ;  when  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  instituted,  Christ 
had  not  died,  and  the  benefits  of  his 
death,  as  conveyed  through  the  Sacra- 
ment, were  but  partially,  if  at  all,  under- 
stood ;  but  now  that  Christ  hath  died, 
and  the  Spirit  been  given  to  explain  and 
apply  his  finished  work,  we  know  that 
the  Lord's  Supper  is  the  great  instituted 
means  for  the  communication  to  our 
souls  of  the  results  of  his  sacrifice;  and 
surely,  if  a  reclining  posture  became 
those  who  had  yet  to  learn  what  the 
Sacrament  would  do  for  them,  a  kneeling 
may  be  more  appropriate,  when  the 
office  of  that  holy  mystery  has  been  more 
unfolded. 

But  without  insisting  further  on  par- 
ticular instances,  which  would  only  un- 
duly detain  us  from  other  and  more  in- 
teresting truths,  we  venture  to  take  our 
Lord's  conduct,  in  regard  of  the  ceremo- 
nies at  the  Passover,  as  establishing  the 
authority  of  the  church  to  ordain  and 
alter  ceremonies  and  rites,  and  as  strongly 
condemning  those  who  would  make  mere 
ceremonies  and  rites  the  excuses  for 
disunion  and  schism.  Our  Lord  con- 
formed to  customs  and  alterations,  for 
which  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
produce  divine  warrant,  and  against 
which  it  would  not  have  been  difficult  to 
advance  some  specious  objections.  And 
we  argue,  therefore,  that  the  church  is 
not  obliged  to  find  chapter  and  verse  for 
every  ceremony  which  she  is  pleased  to 
enjoin,  as  though  she  had  no  power  of 
settling  points  of  discipline  or  order,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  she  can  justify  the  settle- 
ment by  an  appeal  to  inspired  authority. 
We  argue  further,  from  the  instance 
before  us,  that  the  church  having  ap- 
pointed what  she  judges  most  for  the 
general  good,  individuals  have  no  right 
to  separate  and  oppose,  because  they  do 
not  find  the  appointment  precisely  con- 
genial with  their  feelings  or  circum- 
stances. Look  at  Christ  and  his  Apos- 
tles— they  were  about  to  be  parted  : 
Christ  was  just  entering  upon  scenes 
immeasurably  more  tremendous  than 
had  ever  been  passed  through  by  any  of 
our  race  ;  the  Apostles  were  full  of  ap- 
prehensions and  grief,  for  their  Lord  had 
announced  his   departure,  and  the  an- 


nouncement had  distracted  their  minds. 
What  an  unseasonable  moment  for  sing- 
ing joyous  hymns !  How  natural  to 
have  said,  "  This  part  of  the  appointed 
service  is  not  suited  to  us  now;  and, 
forasmuch  as  it  certainly  is  not  of  divine 
institution,  we  may  surely  dispense  with 
it,  when  our  hearts  are  so  heavy  and 
sad."  But  no  !  it  was  the  ordinance  of 
the  church  :  the  church  had  full  autho- 
rity to  appoint  such  an  ordinance ;  and 
Christ  and  his  Apostles  would  give  their 
testimony  to  the  duty  of  conformity  to 
all  lawful  ordinances,  whether  in  unison 
or  not  with  individual  feelings.  And  on 
this  account,  as  we  may  venture  to  be- 
lieve— or,  if  not  for  this  purpose,  assur- 
edly with  this  result — though  they  were 
stricken  in  spirit,  disquieted,  yea,  sorely 
distressed,  they  would  not  depart  from 
the  chamber  till  they  had  done  all  which 
was  enjoined  by  the  church,  and  thus 
shown  that  they  acknowledged  her  au- 
thority :  it  was  not  until  "they  had  sung 
an  hymn,"  that  "  they  went  out  into  the 
Mount  of  Olives." 

But  now  let  us  take  another  view  of 
this  fact.  We  have  just  considered  the 
singing  of  an  hymn  as  inappropriate  to 
the  circumstances  of  Christ  and  his 
Apostles ;  and  no  doubt  there  was  an 
apparent  unsuitableness  which  might 
have  been  pleaded  by  those  who  sought 
an  excuse  for  disobedience  to  ecclesias- 
tical rule.  Solomon  has  said,  "  As  he 
that  taketh  away  a  garment  in  cold 
weather,  and  as  vinegar  upon  nitre,  so  is 
he  that  singeth  songs  to  a  heavy  heart." 
And  thus  the  wise  man  may  be  consid- 
ered as  having  delivered  his  testimony 
against  the  fitness  of  music  and  minstrel- 
sy, when  there  is  a  weight  at  the  heart, 
and  the  spirits  are  oppressed.  But  "  a 
greater  than  Solomon  is  here  ;"  and  we 
may  perhaps  say  that  it  was  with  the 
singing  of  an  hymn  that  Christ  prepared 
himself  for  his  unknown  agony.  Setting 
aside  all  considerations  drawn  from  the 
ordinances  of  the  church,  is  it  at  all 
strange  that  our  blessed  Lord  and  his  dis- 
ciples should  have  sung  joyous  hymns  at  a 
moment  so  full  of  darkness  and  dread  1 
For  joyous  hymns  they  were  in  which 
they  joined  :  music  has  its  melancholy 
strains  as  well  as  its  gladdening — the 
dirge  for  the  funeral  as  well  as  the  song 
for  the  marriage  or  the  banquet  :  and 
Christ  and  his  Apostles  might  have 
thrown  the   sadness  of  their  spirits  into 


38 


THE  PAKTIXG  HYMN. 


the  slow,  measured  cadences  of  some 
solemn  lament.  But,  as  we  have  just 
said,  they  were  joyous  hymns  in  which 
they  joined.  Look  ai  the  Jewish  Halle], 
and  von  find  il  abounding  in  expres 
of  confidence  and  praise:  "  The  Lord  is 
my  strength  and  song,  and  is  become  my 
salvation.  The  voice  of  rejoicing  and 
salvation    is    in    the  tabernacles  of  the 

righl is  :  the  right  hand  of  the   Lord 

doeth  valiantly.  The  righl  hand  of  the 
Lord  is  exalted  ;  the  right  hand  of  the 
Lord  doeth  valiantly.  1  shall  not  die, 
but  live,  and  declare  the  works  of  the 
Lord." 

And  was  it,  think  you,  a  strange  pre- 
paration fortlie  Mountof  Olives  and  the 
Garden  of  Gethsemane,  thus  to  com- 
memorate the  mercies,  and  chant  the 
praises  of  the  Most  High  God?  Nay. 
it  is  recorded  of  Luther  that,  on  receiving 
any  discouraging  news,  he  was  wont  to 
say,  "  Come,  let  us  sing  the  forty-sixth 
Psalm,'' — that  Psalm  which  commences 
with  the  words,  "  God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble  ; 
therefore  will  not  we  fear,  though  the 
earth  be  removed,  and  though  the  moun- 
tains be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the 
sea."  And  it  were  well  for  us,  my 
brethren,  if  in  seasons  of  trouble  we 
betook  ourselves  to  praise,  and  not  only 
to  prayer.  If  we  find  ourselves  in  cir- 
cumstances of  difficulty,  if  dangers  sur- 
round us,  and  duties  seem  too  great  for 
our  strength,  we  almost  naturally  cry 
unto  God,  and  entreat  of  him  assistance 
and  guardianship.  And  indeed  we  do 
right:  God  has  made  our  receiving 
conditional  on  our  asking;  and  we  can 
never  be  too  diligent  in  supplicating  at 
his  bands  the  supply  of  our  many  neces- 
sities. But  ought  we  to  confine  our- 
selves to  prayer,  as  though  praise  were 
out  of  place  when  mercies  are  needed, 
and  only  became  Us  when  they  have 
just  been  received  .'  Not  so;  praise  is 
the  best  auxiliary  to  prayer  ;  and  he  who 
most  bears  in  mind  what  has  been  done 
for  him  by  God,  will  he  most  emboldened 
to  supplicate  fresh  gifts  from  above. 
We  should  recount  God's  mercies,  we 
should  call  upon  our  souls,  and  all  that 
is  within  us,  to  laud  and  magnify  his 
name  when  summoned  to  face  new  triads, 
and  encounter  fresh  dangers.  Would 
it  sound  to  you  strange,  if  on  approaching 
the  chamber  where,  as  you  knew,  the 
father  of  a  family  had  just  breathed  his 


mi  heard  voices  mingling,  not  in  a 
melancholy  chant,  but  rather  in  one  of 
lofty  commemoration,  such  as  might  be 
taken  from  the  Jewish  Hallel,  "The 
Lord  hath  been  mindful  of  us  ;  he  will 
bless  us  ;  he  will  bless  the  house  of  Is- 
rael, he  will  bless  the  house  of  Aaron1? 
The  Lord  is  on  my  side,  I  will  not  fear  : 
what  can  man  do  unto  me  1  "  Would 
you  lie  disposed  to  say  that  the  widow 
and  the  orphans,  whose  voices  you  re- 
c  i  mi  zed  in  the  thankful  anthem,  were 
strangely  employed  ?  and  that  the  utter- 
ances over  the  dead  would  have  more 
fittingly  been  those  of  earnest  petition 
unto  (rod,  of  deep-drawn  entreaty  for 
the  light  of  his  countenance  and  the 
strength  of  his  Spirit?  Nay,  the  widow 
and  her  orphans,  if  not  actually  praying 
the  most  effectual  of  prayers,  would  be 
thereby  most  effectually  preparing  them- 
selves for  praying  unto  God  :  if,  now  that 
their  chief  earthly  stay  is  removed,  they 
have  to  enter  on  a  dark  and  dangerous 
path,  they  cannot  do  better  than  thus 
call  to  mind  what  the  Almighty  has 
proved  himself  to  others  and  themselves  ; 
the  anthem  is  the  best  prelude  to  the 
supplication  ;  and  their  first  step  toward 
the  Mount  of  Olives  will  be  all  the  firmer, 
if,  before  they  cry,  "  Hold  thou  up  our  go- 
ings in  thy  paths,"  they  join  in  the  song, 
"His  merciful  kindness  is  great  towards 
us,  and  the  truth  of  the  Lord  endureth 
for  ever;  praise«ye  the  Lord." 

We  wish  you  to  draw  this  lesson  from 
the  last  action  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles, 
before  they  went  forth  to  extraordinary 
trial.  We  wish  you  to  observe,  and 
understand,  that  so  far  from  being  un- 
suited  to  circumstances  of  perplexity 
and  danger,  the  song  of  praise  should  at 
least  mingle  with  the  cry  of  prayer,  and 
that,  if  you  would  arm  yourselves  for 
trouble  and  for  duty,  you  should  recount 
the  marvellous  acts  of  the  Lord,  as  well 
as  supplicate  the  communications  of  his 
This  is  too  much  overlooked 
and  neglected  by  christians.  They  are 
more  familiar  with  the  earnest  petition 
than  with  the  grateful  anthem.  Like 
the  captives  in  Babylon,  they  hang  their 
harps  upon  the  willows,  when  they  find 
themselves  in  a  strange  land  ;  whereas, 
if  they  would  sing  "one  the  songs  of 
Zion,"  it  would  not  only  remind  them 
of  home,  but  encourage  them  to  ask  as- 
sistance and  expect  deliverance.  Make 
trial  of  this  method,  ye  who  have  a  dark 


THE  PARTING  HYMN. 


39 


path  before  you,  and  avIio  shrink  from 
entering  into  the  cloud.  You  have  of- 
fered prayer — have  you  also  offered 
praise?  you  have  commended  yourselves 
to  God  for  the  future — have  you  also 
commemorated  his  care  of  you  through 
the  past  1  Say  not,  "  How  can  I  sing 
the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land  ! " 
With  this  burden  upon  me,  and  this 
prospect  before  me,  it  is  too  much  to 
expect  me  to  do  more  than  pray  :  who 
ean  sing  songs  with  a  heavy  heart?" 
This  is  the  very  feeling  against  which 
we  would  warn  you.  There  is  no 
Christian  with  so  great  cause  of  sorrow, 
as  to  be  without  a  greater  of  thankful- 
ness. And  the  chords  of  the  soul  will 
never  give  forth  so  fervent  a  prayer, 
as  when  the  Christian  has  been  endea- 
voring to  string  them  to  the  chorus  of 
praise.  Look  at  Christ  and  his  Apos- 
tles. You  will  not  say  that  your  cir- 
cumstances can  be  more  distressing  than 
theirs  ;  that  there  is  more  in  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  trial,  to  excuse  you  from 
singing  "  the  Lord's  song."  Yet  before 
they  departed — the  Redeemer  to  his 
terrible  agony,  the  disciples  to  the 
dreaded  separation — the  last  thing  which 
they  did  was  to  -join  in  the  chanting  of 
thankful  psalms  :  it  was  not  until  "  they 
had  sung  an  hymn,"  but  then  it  was, 
that  "  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of 
Olives." 

But  we  have  yet  to  observe,  that  so 
far  as  praise  is  a  great  auxiliary  to  prayer, 
and  therefore  well  adapted  to  circum- 
stances of  perplexity  and  danger,  the 
repetition  of  thankful  psalms  might  seem 
sufficient ;  whereas,  with  Christ  and  his 
Apostles,  there  was  the  singing  of  such 
psalm3.  We  think  that  this  fact  ought 
not  to  be  let  pass  without  a  more  special 
comment. 

We  are  too  apt  to  regard  music  as  a 
human  art,  or  invention,  just  because 
men  make  certain  musical  instruments, 
and  compose  certain  musical  pieces. 
And  hence  there  are  christians  who 
would  banish  music  from  the  public 
worship  of  God,  as  though  unsuited  to, 
or  unworthy  of,  so  high  and  illustrious 
an  employment.  But  it  is  forgotten,  as 
has  been  observed  by  a  well-known 
writer,*  that  the  principles  of  harmony 
are  in  the  elements  of  nature,  that,  "  the 
element  of  air  was  as  certainly  ordained 


*■  Jones,  of  Nay  laud. 


to  give  us  harmonious  sounds  in  due 
measure,  as  to  give  respiration  to  the 
lungs."  God  has  given  us  "  music  in 
the  air,  as  he  hath  given  us  wine  in  the 
grape  ;"  leaving  it  to  man  to  draw  forth 
the  rich  melody,  as  well  as  to  extract 
the  inspiriting  juice,  but  designing  that 
both  should  be  employed  to  his  glory, 
and  used  in  his  service.  Wine  was  emi- 
nently consecrated  for  religion,  when 
chosen  as  the  sacramental  representation 
of  the  precious  blood  of  the  Redeemer; 
and  a  holy  distinction  ought  never  to  be 
denied  to  music,  whilst  the  Psalmist, 
speaking  undoubtedly  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  exclaims,  "  Praise  him  with  stringed 
instruments  and  organs;  praise  him  upon 
loud  cymbals ;  praise  him  upon  the 
high-sounding  cymbals." 

It  is  not,  however,  instrumental  music 
which  is  mentioned  in  the  text.  "  They 
sang  an  hymn."  There  is  another  re- 
markable instance  recorded  in  the  New 
Testament  of  God's  praises  having  been 
sung  at  a  strange  time,  and  in  a  strange 
place.  Paul  and  Silas,  thrust  into  the 
inner  prison  at  Philippi  and  with  their 
feet  made  fast  in  the  stocks,  had  recourse 
to  singing,  as  though  their  condition  had 
been  prosperous,  and  their  spirits  elated. 
"  And  at  midnight  Paul  and  Silas  prayed, 
and  sang  praises  unto  God,  and  the 
prisoners  heard  them."  They  were  not 
content  with  reminding  each  the  other 
of  the  goodness  of  God,  with  speaking 
of  his  greatness  and  loving-kindness  : 
"  they  sang  praises  unto  God  ;"  and  that, 
too,  with  so  loud  a  voice,  that  the  other 
prisoners  heard  them,  though  confined  in 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  dungeon.  In 
like  manner,  Christ  and  his  Apostles 
"  sang  an  hymn  :"  they  were  not  satisfied 
with  repeating  an  hymn  ;  and  we  may 
certainly  gather  from  this,  that  God's 
praises  ought  to  be  sung  rather  than 
spoken,  that  singing  is  the  more  appro- 
priate vehicle,  even  when  circumstances 
may  be  such  as  to  make  music  seem 
almost  out  of  place. 

It  may,  we  think,  fairly  be  said  that 
the  power  of  singing  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently considered  as  one  of  the  Creator's 
gifts  to  his  creatures,  and,  therefore,  in- 
tended to  be  used  to  his  glory.  We 
recognize  this  fact  in  regard  of  the  power 
of  speech  :  we  acknowledge  that  God 
must  have  endowed  man  with  the  faculty 
of  uttering  articulate  sounds,  and  have 
clothed  his  tongue  with  language;  and 


40 


THE  FARTIXG    HYMX. 


we  confess  that  this  very  fact  renders 
us  responsible,  in  a  high  sense,  for  our 
words,  and  destroys  all  surprise  that 
words  are  to  be  made  a  criterion  at  the 
last.  A  coble  gift  is  abused,  whensoever 
an  idle  word  is  spoken  :  why  then  should 
we  marvel  at  the  assertion  of  oar  Lord, 
"I  say  unto  you,  that  every  idle  word 
that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  ac- 
count thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment  I " 
"For  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justi- 
fied, and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be 
condemned." 

But,  to  quote  again  from  the  writer 
already  referred  to,*  "the  faculty,  by 
which  the  voice  forms  musical  sounds, 
is  as  wonderful  as  the  flexure  of  the 
organs  pf  speech  in  the  articulation  of 
wok!-."  Considered  as  the  result  of  cer- 
tain mechanical  arrangements,  singing 
is  perhaps  even  more  marvellous  than 
speaking,  or  gives  a  stronger  witness  to 
the  skill  and  the  power  of  the  Creator. 
This  is  not  the  place  for  bringing  proof 
of  such  assertion  ;  but  they  who  have 
considered  the  human  throat  as  a  musical 
instrument,  and  have  examined,  on  this 
supposition,  its  structure  and  capacity, 
declare  that  it  presents  "such  a  refine- 
ment on  mechanism  as  exceeds  all 
description."  And  we  are  not  to  doubt 
that  God  gave  this  faculty  to  man,  that 
he  might  employ  it  on  his  praises.  The 
Psalmist  having  said,  "  Awake,  psaltery 
and  harp,"  exclaims,  "  I  myself  will 
awake  early:"  it  did  not  content  him, 
that  instruments  of  music  should  start 
from  their  silence,  and  give  forth  the 
slumbering  harmony  ;  he  regarded  him- 
self as  an  instrument  more  curious,  and 
more  costly,  than  any  framed  by  a  human 
artificer;  and,  therefore,  would  he  too 
awake  and  swell  with  his  voice  the  tide 
of  melody. 

But  singing,  like  music  in  general,  has 
been  too  much  given  up  by  the  church 
to  the  world  ;  it  has  not  been  sufficiently 
considered,  and  cultivated,  as  designed 
for  religious  ends,  and  helpful  to  religious 
feelings.  And  hence.,  for  the  most  part, 
our  psalmody  is  discreditable  to  our 
congregations  ;  it  is  either  given  over  to 
a  few  hired  singers,  as  though  we  were 
to  praise  God  by  deputy  ;  or  is  left  with 
the  children  of  the  national  schools,  as 
though,  in  growing  older,  we  had  less 
cause    for    thankfulness.       Let    me    say 

*  Jones. 


that  the  efforts  which  are  now  being 
systematically  made  throughout  the 
country  to  teach  our  population  to  sing, 
should  be  regarded  with  great  interest 
and  pleasure  by  the  christian.  Such 
efforts  have  a  more  immediate  bearing 
than  is,  perhaps,  commonly  thought,  on 
the  national  piety.  I  do  not  merely 
mean  that  there  is  a  humanizing  power 
in  music,  and  that  the  poor,  taught  to 
sing,  are  likely  to  be  less  wild,  and  less 
prone  to  disorder,  and  therefore  more 
accessible  to  the  ministrations  of  religion. 
Not,  indeed,  that  I  would  make  no  ac- 
count of  this,  for  I  thoroughly  believe 
that,  in  improving  the  tastes  of  a  people, 
you  are  doing  much  for  their  moral  ad- 
vancement. I  like  to  see  our  cottagers 
encouraged  to  train  the  rose  and  the 
honeysuckle  round  their  doors,  and  our 
weavers,  as  is  often  the  fact,  dividing 
their  attention  between  their  looms  and 
I  their  carnations  ;  for  the  man  who  can 
take  care  of  a  flower,  and  who  is  all 
alive  to  its  beauty,  is  far  less  likely  than 
J  another,  who  has  no  delight  in  such 
i  recreations,  to  give  himself  up  to  gross 
lusts  and  habits.  But,  independently  on 
j  this,  if  singing  were  generally  taught, 
the  psalmody  in  our  churches  could  not 
fail  to  be  generally  improved.  And  I 
am  quite  sure  that  this  could  not  take 
place  without,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  a 
great  spiritual  benefit.  When  many 
voices  join  heartily  in  prayer,  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  remain  undevout ;  when 
many  voices  join  heartily  in  praise,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  remain  indifferent. 
Every  one  feels  this.  In  a  congregation, 
where  the  responses  are  generally  left 
to  the  clerk  and  the  children,  how  diffi- 
cult is  it  to  pray  !  whereas,  if  the  ma- 
jority join,  one  is  drawn  in  almost  un- 
consciously, and  cannot  keep  back  his 
cordial  amen.  Thus,  also,  in  a  congre- 
gation where  few  attempt  to  sing,  how 
difficult  it  is  to  magnify  the  Lord !  but 
who  can  resist  the  rush  of  many  voices  i 
whose  bosom  does  not  swell,  as  old  and 
young,  rich  and  poor,  mingle  their  notes 
of  adoration  and  thankfulness] 

You  may  tell  me  that  there  is  not 
necessarily  any  religion  in  all  this  emo- 
tion. I  know  that;  and  I  would  not 
have  you  mistake  emotion  for  religion. 
But  we  are  creatures  so  constituted  as 
to  be  acted  on  through  our  senses  and 
feelings ;  and  whilst  emotion  is  not  reli- 
gion, it  will  often  be  a  great  step  towards 


CESAR  S  HOUSEHOLD. 


41 


it.  The  man  who  has  imbibed,  so  to 
speak,  the  spirit  of  prayer  and  of  praise 
from  the  surrounding  assembly,  is  far 
more  likely  to  give  an  attentive  ear  to 
the  preached  word,  and  to  receive  from 
it  a  lasting  impression,  than  another 
whose  natural  coldness  has  been  in- 
creased by  that  of  the  mass  in  which  he 
found  himself  placed.  In  teaching, 
therefore,  a  people  to  sing  with  the  voice 
"  the  songs  of  Zion,"  we  cannot  but 
believe  that,  God  helping,  much  is  done 
towards  teaching  them  to  sing  with  the 
understanding  and  the  heart.  A  faculty 
is  developed,  Which  God  designed  for  his 
glory,  but  which  has,  comparatively,  been 
allowed  to  remain  almost  useless.  Yes, 
a  faculty  which  God  designed  for  his 
glory  ;  and,  if  so  designed,  it  cannot  lie 
idle  without  injury,  nor  be  rightly  exer- 
cised without  advantage.  And  I  seem  to 
learn,  from  our  text,  that  it  is  not  enough 
that  we  praise  God  with  speeck.  Christ 
and  his  Apostles  "  sang  an  hymn,"  ere 
"  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of 
Olives."  What  had  music,  cheerful  and 
animated  music,  to  do  with  so  sad  and 
solemn  an  occasion  1  Nay,  there  is 
music  in  heaven :  they  who  stand  on 
the   "  sea  of  glass  mingled    with  fire," 


have  "  the  harps  of  God  "  in  their  hands  : 
"  they  sing  the  song  of  Moses,  the  ser- 
vant of  God,  and  the  song  of  the  Lamb :" 
why  then  should  music  ever  be  out  of 
place  with  those  whose  affections  are 
above  ? 

It  would  not  be  out  of  place  in  the 
chamber  of  the  dying  believer.  He  has 
just  received,  through  the  holy  mystery 
of  the  eucharist,  the  body  and  the  blood 

i  of  his  blessed  Redeemer.  And  now  his 
own  failing  voice,  and  the  voices  of  rela- 
tives and  friends,  join  in  chanting  words 
which  the  church  directs  to  be  either 
said  or  sung,  as  the  conclusion  of  the 
sacramental  service  :  "  Glory  be  to  God 
on  high,  and  in  earth  peace,  good- will 

I  towards  men.  We  praise  thee,  we  bless 
thee,  we  worship  thee,  we  glorify  thee, 
we  give  thanks  to  thee  for  thy  great 
glory,  O  Lord  God,  heavenly  King,  God 

!  the  Father  Almighty."  Wonder  ye, 
that,  when  there  was  the  option  either 

j  to  say  or  to  sing,  they  chose  the  singing 

,  at  such  a  moment  1  Nay,  they  all  felt 
that  they  had  a  rough  hill  to  climb;  and 
they  remembered,  that,  when  Christ  and 
his  Apostles  had  finished  their  last 
supper,  "  they  sang  an  hymn,"  and  then 

j  "went  out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives." 


SERMON   V 


CAESAR'S  HOUSEHOLD. 


"  All  the  saints  salute  you,  chiefly  they  that  are  of  Caesar's  household."— Philippuns  iv.  22. 


The  earlier  ages  of  the  church  seem 
to  have  been  distinguished  by  a  love 
which  made  all  christians  regard  them- 
selves as  members  of  one  family.  The 
saying  of  our  Lord,  "  By  this  shall  all 
men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if 
ye  have  love  one  to  another,"  appears 
to  have  been  successfully  taken  as  fur- 

VOL.  II. 


nishing  their  rule  of  conduct ;  for  "  See 
how  these  christians  love  one  another," 
was  the  common  remark  of  enemies  and 
persecutors. 

And  the  observable  thing  is,  that  the 
love  of  which  we  speak  was  actually  the 
love  of  christians  as  christians,  irrespec- 
tive altogether  of  other  claims  upon  af- 
6 


42 


CESAR  S  HOUSEHOLD. 


fection.  The  moment  a  man  embraced 
Christianity,  he  was  regarded  as  a  brother, 
and  felt  to  be  a  brother,  by  the  whole 
christian  body  :  a  thousand  hearts  at  once 
beat  kindly  towards  him  ;  and  multi- 
tudes, who  were  never  likely  to  see  him 
in  the  Hesh,  were  instantly  one  with  him 
in  spirit.  It  may  admit  of  great  doubt 
whether  there  he  much,  in  our  own  day, 
of  that  which  thus  distinguished  the  be- 
ginning of  Christianity.  The  love  of 
christians  because  they  are  christians,  no 
regard  being  had  to  country  or  condition 
— is  this  still  a  strongly  marked  charac- 
teristic of  those  who  profess  themselves 
the  disciples  of  the  Redeemer  1  There 
was  something  very  touching  and  beauti- 
ful in  Christ's  promise  to  such  as  should 
forsake  all  for  his  sake  :  "  There  is  no 
man  that  hath  left  house,  or  brethren,  or 
sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  children, 
or  lands,  for  my  sake  and  the  Gospel's, 
but  he  shall  receive  a  hundred-fold  now 
in  this  time,  houses,  and  brethren,  and 
sisters,  and  mothers,  and  children,  and 
lands."  How  was  such  a  promise  ful- 
filled, except  that  they,  who  had  been 
cast  out  for  their  religion  from  their  own 
families  and  possessions',  found  them- 
selves admitted  at  once  into  anew  house- 
hold, and  endowed  with  new  property, 
even  the  household  and  the  property  of 
the  whole  christian  community  1  For 
every  natural  relation  whom  they  had 
lost,  they  obtained  instantly  a  hundred 
spiritual;  and  the  goods  of  which  they 
had  been  spoiled,  returned  to  them,  a 
thousand-fold  multiplied,  in  the  posses- 
sions of  those  who  received  them  as  chil- 
dren and  brethren.  Thus  was  strikingly 
verified  a  description  long  before  given 
of  God  by  the  Psalmist :  "  He  setteth 
the  solitary  in  families" — for  they  who 
were  to  all  appearance  abandoned,  left 
orphaned  and  alone  in  the  world,  found 
themselves  surrounded  by  kinsmen. 

But  it  is  only,  we  fear,  in  a  very  limit- 
ed sense,  that  the  like  can  be  affirmed  of 
the  christians  of  our  own  day.  Yet  the 
criterion  of  genuine  Christianity  remains 
just  what  it  was  :  "  We  know  that  we 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because 
we  love  the  brethren  :  he  that  loveth  not 
his  brother  abideth  in  death."  In  our 
own  time  the  ends  of  the  earth  are  being 
wondrously  brought  together  :  there  is 
an  ever-growing  facility  of  communication 
between  country  and  country  ;  and  this 
must  rapidly  break  down  many  barriers, 


and  bring  far-scattered  tribes  into  familiar 
intercourse.  In  earlier  times,  nation  was 
widely  divided  from  nation  :  the  inhabi- 
tants of  different  lands  were  necessarily 
almost  strangers  to  each  other;  and  you 
could  not  have  expected  an  approxima- 
tion to  universal  brotherhood.  But  then 
it  was,  in  the  face  of  all  obstacles  to  per- 
sonal communion,  that  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity showed  its  comprehensive  and 
amalgamating  energies :  the  name  of 
Christ  was  as  a  spell  to  annihilate  dis- 
tance ;  to  plant  the  cross  in  a  land,  sufficed 
to  make  that  land  one  with  districts  re- 
moved from  it  by  the  diameter  of  the 
globe.  Alas  for  the  colder  temper  of 
modern  times  !  We  have  made  paths 
across  the  waters,  we  have  exalted  the 
valleys,  we  have  brought  low  the  hills, 
so  that  we  can  visit  every  region,  and 
scarce  seem  to  leave  our  home ;  but 
where  is  that  glowing  and  ample  charity, 
which  would  throb  towards  christians 
whom  we  have  never  seen,  and  make  us 
feel  that  our  own  household  includes  the 
far  off  and  the  near,  all  who  worship  the 
same  God,  and  trust  in  the  same  Media- 
tor] 

We  have  been  led  into  these  remarks, 
from  observing,  in  the  apostolical  writ- 
ings, the  affectionate  greetings  which  the 
members  of  one  church  send  to  those  of 
another.  For  the  most  part,  these 
churches  had  no  intercourse  the  one  with 
the  other;  they  were  widely  separated 
by  situation  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
bond  of  a  common  faith,  their  members 
would  have  been  as  much  strangers  as 
though  they  had  belonged  to  different  or- 
ders of  being.  And  yet  you  would  judge, 
from  the  warm  remembrances,  the  kindly 
messages,  which  pass  between  them,  that 
they  were  associated  by  most  intimate 
relationship,  that  they  were  friends  who 
had  spent  years  together,  or  kinsmen  who 
had  been  brought  up  beneath  the  same 
roof.  #  When  St.  Paul  wrote  thus  to  the 
Colossians,  "For  I  would  that  ye  knew 
what  great  conflict  I  have  for  you,  and 
for  them  at  Laodicea,  and  for  as  many 
as  have  not  seen  my  face  in  the  flesh," 
you  would  have  thought,  from  the  ener- 
gy of  his  expressions,  that  it  must  have 
been  for  some  dear  and  long-tried  ac- 
quaintance that  he  was  thus  deeply  in- 
terested, had  he  not  immediately  describ- 
ed the  objects  of  his  solicitude,  as  those 
who  had  not  seen  his  face  in  the  flesh. 
And,  in  like  manner,  when  you  read  the 


CESAR S  HOUSEHOLD. 


43 


salutations  sent  by  one  church  to  another, 
the  warm  and  cordial  greetings,  you 
would  conclude  that  these  churches  had 
held  familiar  intercouse,  that  their  mem- 
bers had  conversed  much  together,  and 
mingled  in  the  intimacies  of  life,  if  you 
did  not  know,  from  other  sources  of  in- 
formation, that  they  were  strangers  to 
each  other,  except  as  all  belonging  to 
Christ's  mystical  body.  So  strong  a  link 
of  association  was  Christianity  then  felt 
to  be  !  Christians  knew  that  there  were 
christians  in  distant  lands,  whom  they 
were  never  likely  to  visit,  and  who  were 
never  likely  to  visit  them — but  what  mat- 
tered it,  that  they  were  not  to  see  one 
another  in  the  flesh  ]  They  were  grafted 
into  the  same  vine,  they  were  washed  in 
the  same  blood,  they  were  quickened 
by  the  same  Spirit ;  and  feeling,  there- 
fore, as  though  one  mother  had  born 
them,  and  one  home  sheltered  them,  they 
poured  forth  hearty  salutations,  and  mul- 
tiplied expressions  of  the  very  tenderest 
affection. 

It  was  thus  with  the  Romans  and  the 
Philippians.  They  were  widely  removed 
the  one  from  the  other;  and  probably 
there  had  been  little  or  no  personal  inter- 
course between  the  members  of  the 
churches.  Yet  you  find,  from  our  text, 
that  the  christians  at  Rome  felt  kind- 
ly towards  the  christians  at  Philippi, 
and  charged  St.  Paul  with  their  senti- 
ments of  esteem  and  good-will.  "  All  the 
saints  salute  you" — not,  you  observe,  a 
few  of  the  most  distinguished,  of  those 
who  had  advanced  farthest  in  the  charity 
enjoined  by  the  Gospel — but  "all  the 
saints  salute  you."  O  blessed  estate  of 
a  Christian  Church,  when  every  member 
had  a  cordial  greeting  to  send  to  persons 
whom  he  had  never  beheld,  but  whom 
he  loved,  as  loving  the  Savior  with 
himself. 

You  will,  however,  naturally  suppose 
that  we  selected  our  present  text  not  so 
much  as  containing  the  general  salutation 
of  one  church  by  another,  as  on  account 
of  its  marking  out  certain  individuals  as 
specially  earnest  in  their  greetings. 
"All  the  saints  salute  you  ;  chiefly,  they 
that  are  of  Caesar's  household."  There 
was  a  friendly  salutation  from  all  the 
members  of  the  Roman  Church  ;  but  the 
most  friendly  issued  from  those  who  ap- 
pertained to  the  household  of  Caesar. 
And  we  consider  this  as  an  intimation 
which  ought  not  to  be  cursorily  passed 


over.  We  think  that  truths  and  lessona 
of  no  common  interest  may  be  drawn 
from  this  brief  reference  to  the  christians 
who  were  to  be  found  in  the  imperial 
circle.  We  design,  therefore,  to  confine 
ourselves  to  the  examining  this  reference, 
to  the  endeavoring  to  discover  what  it 
may  imply,  and  what  it  may  enjoin.  We 
are  aware,  that,  at  first,  it  will  probably 
appear  to  you  a  barren  statement,  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  simple  fact,  on  which 
no  comment  is  needed,  and  from  which 
little,  if  any,  instruction  can  be  drawn. 
But  if  you  would  read  the  Bible  with  this 
rule  in  mind,  "All  Scripture  is  given  by 
inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profitable  for 
doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for 
instruction  in  righteousness,"  you  would 
find  that  nothing  is  stated  which  could 
be  omitted  without  loss  ;  and  that  often, 
where  there  is  least  to  strike  the  super- 
ficial reader,  there  is  most  to  repay  the 
diligent  student.  Without  then  further 
preface,  and  without  proposing  any  plan 
of  discourse,  which  might  perhaps  only 
impede  our  inquiries,  we  ask  your  atten- 
tion, whilst  endeavoring  to  show  what 
truths  and  lessons  are  furnished  by  the 
information  that  there  were  saints  in  the 
household  of  Caesar,  and  that  these  were 
foremost  in  greeting  the  saints  at  Philippi. 
Now  you  are  to  observe  that  the  throne 
of  the  Caesars  was  at  this  time  occupied 
by  Nero,  a  monster  rather  than  a  man, 
whose  vices  and  cruelties  will  make  his 
name  infamous  to  the  very  end  of  the 
world.  Certainly,  if  ever  there  was  an 
atmosphere  uncongenial  to  Christianity, 
it  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  that  of 
the  court  and  palace  of  this  bloody  de- 
bauchee. It  ordinarily  happens  that  the 
character  of  the  prince  gives  the  tone  to 
that  of  his  courtiers  and  attendants  ;  and 
it  would  therefore  be  hardly  imaginable 
that  the  household  of  a  Nero  was  not  com- 
posed in  the  main  of  the  fierce  and  the 
dissolute.  And  it  should  further  be  ob- 
served, that  there  was  a  direct  hostility 
to  Christianity  on  the  part  of  the  emperor ; 
he  became  eventually  a  most  bitter  per- 
secutor of  the  christians,  and  St.  Paul 
himself  perished  by  his  sword.  Where, 
then,  on  all  human  calculation,  was  there 
Jess  likelihood  of  the  Gospel  gaining 
footing  than  in  the  court  and  household 
of  Nero  1  Yet  so  true  was  St.  Paul's 
assertion,  that  the  weapons  of  his  warfare 
were  "mighy  through  God  to  the  casting 
down  of  strong-holds,"  that  there  were 


44 


C .ESAR  S  HOUSEHOLD. 


men  of  Caesar's  household  worthy  the 
high  title  of  saints  ;  men  not  secretly,  but 
openly,  christians;  not  ashamed  of  their 
professions,  but  willing  to  give  it  all  pub- 
licity by  sending  greetings  to  christians 
in  other  cities  of  the  earth.  And  our 
first  inquiry  will  naturally  be,  as  to  the 
agency  which  brought,  round  so  unlikely 
a  result;  how  it  came  to  pass,  that  an 
entrance  was  achieved,  and  a  firm  footing 
gained  for  Christianity,  where  there  might 
have  seemed  amoral  impossibility  against 
its  admission,  or,  at  all  events,  its  settle- 
ment ?  Your  minds  will  naturally  turn, 
in  answer  to  this  inquiry,  to  the  miracu- 
lous gifts  with  which  St.  Paul  was  endow- 
ed, to  the  credentials  which  he  was  ena- 
bled to  furnish  of  the  divine  origin  of 
Christianity,  and  to  the  power  and  persua- 
siveness with  which  he  set  forth  its  doc- 
trines. You  will  remember  with  what 
noble  intrepidity  he  rose  up  before  the 
sages  of  Greece,  and  won  over  even 
proud  philosophy  by  his  reasoning  and 
eloquence ;  and  you  will  further  call  to 
mind,  how,  when  he  spake  unflinchingly 
to  Felix,  the  slave  of  base  lusts,  the 
haughty  Roman  trembled,  as  though  the 
judgment  had  already  been  upon  him 
with  its  terrors.  And  whilst  there  are 
these  registered  achievements  of  the 
great  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  you  think 
it  quite  intelligible  that  he  should  have 
made  proselytes  even  from  the  household 
of  Nero  :  you  perhaps  imagine  him  work- 
ing some  great  miracle,  in  order  to  com- 
pel the  attention  of  the  emperor  and  his 
court,  and  then  preaching,  with  a  more 
than  human  oratory,  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
till  slumbering  consciences  were  startled, 
and  bold  vices  abashed. 

Indeed  you  do  right  in  thus  ascribing 
extraordinary  power  to  the  miracles  and 
sermons  of  St.  Paul:  we  could  have  felt 
no  surprise,  supposing  this  Apostle  to 
have  had  opportunities  of  audience,  had 
even  Nero  trembled  like  Felix,  and  had 
converts  been  won  from  the  courtiers  of 
Rome,  as  well  as  from  the  philosophers 
of  Athens.  But,  nevertheless,  in  this 
instance  the  explanation  utterly  fails  : 
St.  Paul  was  now  a  prisoner,  kept  in 
close  confinement;  and,  though  allowed 
to  receive  those  who  came  unto  him, 
was  not  at  liberty,  as  at  other  times,  to 
labor  openly  and  vigorously  at  propa- 
gating the  Gospel.  He  could  not  go, 
as  you  have  supposed  him,  like  Moses 
and  Aaron,  with  the  rod  in  his  hand,  and 


compel  by  his  miracles  the  attention  of 
a  profligate  king,  and  then  deliver,  in 
the  name  of  the  living  God,  the  message 
of  rebuke  and  the  prophecy  of  ven- 
geance. And  yet  it  was  at  this  very 
time,  when  the  chief  instrument  in  the 
diffusion  of  Christianity  seemed  compara- 
tively disabled,  that  the  great  triumph 
was  won,  and  the  imperial  household 
gave  members  to  the  church.  Nay,  and 
more  than  this,  it  appears  to  have  been 
actually  in  consequence  of  his  being  a 
prisoner  for  the  faith,  rather  than  a 
preacher  of  the  faith,  that  St.  Paul  was 
instrumental  to  the  obtaining  this  victory. 
If  you  refer  to  the  commencement  of 
this  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  you  will 
find  the  Apostle  ascribing  to  his  impri- 
sonment the  very  result  of  which  we  are 
now  seeking  the  cause.  He  expresses 
himself  fearful  lest  the  Philippians  should 
have  thought  that  the  afflictions  with 
which  he  had  been  visited,  had  impeded 
the  progress  of  the  Gospel.  He  assures 
them  that  quite  the  contrary  effect  had 
been  produced :  "  I  would  ye  should 
understand,  brethren,  that  the  things 
which  have  happened  unto  me,  have 
fallen  out  rather  unto  the  furtherance  of 
the  Gospel ;  so  that  my  bonds  in  Christ 
are  manifest  in  all  the  palace,  and  in  all 
other  places."  Thus,  you  see,  it  was 
not  by  his  sermons,  it  was  literally  by 
his  bonds,  that  the  attention  of  the  court 
had  been  attracted  to  Christianity :  it 
was  as,  a  captive  that  he  had  mastered 
rulers,  and  with  his  chain  that  he  had 
struck  off  their  fetters.  In  the  following 
verse  he  adds  another  statement  as  to 
the  efficaciousness  of  his  bonds  :  "  And 
many  of  the  brethren  in  the  Lord,  waxing 
confident  by  my  bonds,  are  much  more 
bold  to  speak  the  word  without  fear." 
Hence  there  were  two  ways,  as  it  would 
appear,  in  which  his  bonds  gave  enlarge- 
ment to  Christianity.  The  patience  and 
meekness  with  which  he  submitted  to 
long  and  unjust  confinement,  drew  pub- 
lic attention,  and  compelled  men  to  feel 
that,  where  there  was  such  willingness 
to  suffer,  there  must  be  the  consciousness 
of  advocating  truth.  And  then  the  sup- 
ports and  consolations  which  were  minis- 
tered to  him  by  God,  taught  other  chris- 
tians that  they  could  not  be  losers 
through  intrepidity  in  preaching  the 
Gospel,  and  therefore  nerved  them  to 
greater  energy  in  the  work  from  which 
Paul  himself  was  temporarily  withdrawn. 


CESAR  S   HOUSEHOLD. 


•15 


In  these  ways  were  the  Apostle's  bonds 
influential  ;  so  that  when,  to  all  appear- 
ance, he  was  able  to  do  least,  when  his 
power  of  usefulness  seemed  the  most 
limited,  then  was  it  that  he  won  admis- 
sion for  Christianity  into  the  circle  from 
which  you  would  have  thought  it  most 
surely  excluded. 

We  cannot  but  think  that  a  great 
lesson  was  thus  given,  as  to  God's  power 
of  overruling  evil  for  good,  of  producing 
the  most  signal  results  when  the  em- 
ployed instrumentality  appears  the  least 
adequate.  How  apt  are  we  to  imagine, 
when  a  man  is  overtaken  by  sickness,  or 
withdrawn,  through  one  cause  or  another, 
from  more  active  duty,  that  his  period 
of  usefulness  has  closed  !  How  ready 
are  we  to  lament  over  what  we  call  a 
mysterious  dispensation,  as  the  Roman 
christians  may  have  done  over  the  im- 
prisonment of  St.  Paul  !  But  who  shall 
say  that  it  does  not  often  come  to  pass, 
that  the  minister  preaches  far  more 
effectually  from  his  sick-bed,  than  ever 
he  did  from  his  pulpit  1  The  report, 
which  goes  forth  amongst  his  people,  of 
the  patience  with  which  he  bore  pain, 
and  the  calmness  with  which  he  met 
death,  will  perhaps  do  more  towards 
overcoming  their  resistance  to  the  Gos- 
pel, than  all  his  energy  effected,  whilst 
he  gave  himself  night  and  day  to  the 
bringing  them  to  repentance.  Or  again, 
was  it  whilst  they  were  free  to  move 
through  a  land,  and  to  wrestle  boldly 
with  prevailing  errors  and  superstitions, 
that  martyrs  and  confessors  did  most  for 
the  cause  of  God  and  of  truth  ]  Was  it 
not  rather  when  they  were  actually  in 
the  clutches  of  the  persecutor,  pining  in 
dungeons,  or  dragged  to  the  scaffold  ? 
The  flame  which  consumed  them,  pre- 
vailed most  to  the  scattering  the  spiritual 
darkness  ;  and  their  dust  was  as  seed 
whence  moral  virtue  sprang.  Oh,  let 
no  one  ever  think,  that,  because  unable 
to  exert  himself  openly  and  actively,  as  he 
once  did,  for  God,  he  has  no  duties  to  per- 
form, no  services  to  render,  no  rewards 
to  secure.  A  true  christian  is  never,  if 
we  may  use  a  common  expression,  laid 
by  :  God  makes  use  of  him  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  in  life  and  in  death.  And 
the  influence  which  proceeds  from  him, 
when  languishing  on  his  couch,  reduced 
to  poverty,  or  overwhelmed  with  afflic- 
tion, is  often  incomparably  greater  than 
when,  in  the  fulness  of  his  strength,  with 


every  engine  at  his  disposal,  he  moved 
amongst  his  fellow-men,  and  took  the 
lead  in  each  benevolent  enterprise.  It 
is  on  sick-beds  that  the  sustaining  power 
of  Christianity  is  most  displayed  :  it  is 
amid  multiplied  troubles  that  its  pro- 
fessed comforts  are  put  to  the  proof:  it 
is  by  dying  men  that  its  best  promises 
are  shown  to  have  been  indeed  made  by 
God.  And  even  when  the  grave  has 
closed  upon  a  righteous  man,  is  it  not 
often  true  that  "  he,  being  dead,  yet 
speaketh  1  "  His  memory  admonishes 
and  encourages,  and  that,  too,  more 
powerfully  than. even  his  living  example. 
Let  no  one,  then,  conclude  himself 
disabled  from  doing  God  service,  because 
he  can  no  longer  perform  active  duties, 
nor  take  visible  part  in  advancing  Christ's 
kingdom  upon  earth.  Resignation  has 
its  victories  as  well  as  intrepidity  :  con- 
verts may  be  made  through  meekness  in 
trial,  as  well  as  through  boldness  in  en- 
terprise. And  if  we  would  reconcile 
ourselves  to  the  apparent  suspension  of 
our  usefulness ;  if  we  would  learn  that 
God  may  be  employing  us  most,  when 
he  seems  to  have  most  withdrawn  us 
from  employment ;  let  us  ponder  the 
fact  brought  before  us  by  our  text.  I 
think  upon  Rome,  the  metropolis  of  the 
world,  upon  the  haughty  Caesars,  giving 
laws  to  well  nigh  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  O  that  Christianity  might  make 
way  into  the  imperial  halls  !  I  should 
feel  as  though  it  were  about  to  triumph 
over  heathenism,  were  it  to  penetrate 
the  palace  of  Nero.  And  then  I  hear 
that  St  Paul  is  approaching  towards 
Rome — St.  Paul,  who  has  carried  the 
Gospel  to  the  east  and  west,  the  north 
and  south,  and  every  where  made  false- 
hood quail  before  truth.  My  expecta- 
tions are  raised.  This  great  champion 
of  Christianity  may  succeed  where  there 
is  most  to  discourage,  and  gain  over 
Nero's  courtiers,  if  not  Nero  himself. 
But  then  I  hear  that  St.  Paul  comes  as 
a  prisoner:  I  see  him  used  as  a  criminal, 
and  debarred  from  all  opportunity  of 
publishing  the  Gospel  to  the  illustrious 
and  powerful.  My  hopes  are  destroyed. 
The  great  Apostle  seems  to  me  com- 
pletely disarmed  ;  and  the  picture  which 
I  had  fondly  drawn  of  Christianity  grow- 
ing dominant  through  God's  blessing  on 
his  labors,  disappears  when  I  behold  him 
detained  in  captivity.  Alas  for  human 
short-sightedness     and    miscalculation ! 


46 


CESAR S  HOUSEHOLD. 


Never  again  let  me  dare  reckon  God's 
servants  least  powerfully,  when  least 
visibly  instrumental  in  promoting  his 
cause.  St.  Paul  is  a  prisoner  ;  St.  Paul 
cannot  go  boldly  to  the  court,  and  preach 
to  the  mighty;  but,  in  less  than  two 
v-  lib,  lie  is  able  to  declare,  "  My  bonds 
are  manifest  in  all  the  palace,"  and  to 
enumerate  amongst  the  saints,  who  send 
greetings  to  the  Philippians,  "chiefly 
them  that  are  of  Caesar's  household." 

We  go  on  to  observe  to  you — and 
the  observation  is  of  prime  importance 
— that  a  man  cannot  be  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances so  disadvantageous  to  piety 
as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  give 
heed  to  the  duties  of  religion.  We 
have  already  spoken  to  you  of  the  cba- 
racter  of  Nero,  and  of  the  profligacy 
which  must  have  deformed  his  house- 
bold  and  court.  We  have  admitted  that, 
if  ever  there  were  an  atmosphere  un- 
congenial to  Christianity,  it  must  have 
be<  ii  thai  of  the  Roman  court,  with  such 
an  emperor  at  its  head.  We  could  not 
have  been  surprised,  had  the  religion 
of  Jesus  striven  in  vain  for  admission; 
and  it  was  the  little  apparent  likeli- 
hood of  there  being  saints  in  the  house- 
hold of  Caesar,  which  suggested  the 
{ongoing  inquiry  as  to  the  instru- 
mentality through  which  the  Gospel 
succeeded  in  making  these  converts. 
But,  nevertheless,  the  converts  were 
made,  and  that  too,  you  are  carefully  to 
remember,  not  'through  any  extraor- 
dinary agency,  seeing  that  the  employed 
preaching  was  not  that  of  St.  Paul,  but 
oidy  of  subordinate  ministers.  Certainly 
such  an  instance  as  this  should  show  the 
worth lessness  of  an  excuse  with  which 
men  would  sometimes  palliate  their  neg- 
lect of  religion — that  they  are  exposed 
to  such  temptations,  surrounded  by  such 
hinderances,  or  liable  to  such  opposition, 
that  it  is  vain  for  them  to  attempt  the 
greal  duties  of  repentance  and  faith. 
We  challenge  any  man  to  show  that  he 
i,  in  >re  unfavorably  circumstanced  than 
lerobers  of  .Nero's  household  must, 
have  been.  We  challenge  him  to  show- 
any  likelihood  thai  the  profession  of  re- 
ligion would  expose  him  to  greater  dan- 
.  bring  on  him  more  obloquy,  or 
i  i  e  severer  loss,  than  might  have 
been  e  cpected  to  follow  the  i  cell  inge 
of  heathenism  for  Christianity,  by  those 
who  bore  office  in  the  Roman  empe- 
ror's court.     And  whilst  we  have  before 


us  full  evidence,  that  even  the  servants 
of  Nero  could  overcome  every  disad- 
vantage, and  "  shine  as  lights"  in  the 
church  of  the  Redeemer,  we  can  never 
admit  that  the  temporal  circumstances 
of  any  man  disqualify  him  for  the  being 
a  true  christian,  or  put  such  obstacles  in 
his  way  as  excuse  his  not  advancing  to 
eminence  as  a  believer. 

We  readily  acknowledge  that  mone 
appears  done  for  one  man  than  for  an- 
other ;  that  some  circumstances  may  be 
said  to  conduce  to  the  making  men  pi 
ous,  whilst  others  increase  the  difficulty 
of  separation  from  the  world,  and  con 
secration  to  God.  But  we  can  be  cer 
tain,  from  the  known  strength  of  divine 
grace,  and  its  sufficiency  to  all  the  ends 
of  the  renewal  and  perfecting  of  our  na- 
ture, that,  under  every  possible  disad- 
vantage, there  may  be  a  striving  with 
evil,  and  a  following  after  good,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  precepts,  and  in  hope  of 
the  recompenses,  of  the  Gospel.  We 
will  not,  at  present,  discuss  whether  it 
be  a  man's  duty,  when  he  feels  his  cir- 
cumstances unfavorable  to  personal  re 
ligion,  to  labor  to  escape  from  those  cir 
cu instances  ;  whether  the  courtier  should 
flee  the  court  where  there  are  incite- 
ments to  evil,  the  merchant  the  traffic 
which  burdens  him  with  cares,  or  the 
servant  the  household  where  godliness 
is  held  in  contempt.  We  may  find  op- 
portunity hereafter  of  treating  this  point; 
we  now  only  say,  that  the  case  may  often 
be  one  in  which  there  is  no  escape  from 
the  circumstances  which  make  piety  dif- 
ficult,  and  in  which  the  duty  of  remaining 
in  the  disadvantageous  position  may  be 
as  clear  as  that  of  struggling  against  its 
disadvantages.  But  we  contend  that, 
whensoever  such  is  the  case,  it  is  no  apol- 
ogy for  an  individual's  continuing  void 
of  personal  religion,  that  he  would  have 
greal  difficulties  to  wrestle  with  in  be- 
coming religious.  The  individual  may 
fasten  on  these  difficulties,  and  urge  them 
in  excuse,  when  conscience  admonishes 
him  as  to  the  great  duties  of  godliness. 
But  the  excuse  will  not  bear  investiga- 
tion; forasmuch  as  it  assumes  that  God 
has  put  it  out  of  the  man's  power  to  pro- 
vide for  his  soul's  safety  in  eternity  ;  and 
to  assume  this  is  to  contradict  the  Divine 
word,  and  throw  scorn  on  the  Divine 
attributes. 

We  take,  for  example,   the   instance 
most    naturally  suggested  by  our  text, 


CESAR S  HOUSEHOLD. 


47 


that  of  a  servant  in  an  irreligious  family. 
We  have  great  sympathy  with  persons 
so  circumstanced  :  we  count  their  situa- 
'  tion  one  of  no  common  difficulty.  Their 
superiors  set  them  a  bad  example.,  an 
example  of  sabbath-breaking,  of  neglect 
of  all  religion,  and.  perhaps,  even  of 
undisguised  vice.  Few  opportunities 
are  afforded  them  of  attending  public 
worship  ;  and  they  have  but  little  time 
for  private  devotion.  If  inclined  to  give 
heed  to  religion,  they  cannot  but  per- 
ceive that  any  indication  of  piety  would 
perhaps  lose  them  the  favor  of  their 
master,  and  bring  upon  them  the  ridicule 
of  their  associates.  We  say  again  that 
we  have  great  sympathy  with  an  indivi- 
dual thus  situated  ;  we  feel  that  he  has 
more  than  a  common  battle  to  fight,  if 
he  stand  forth  as  a  candidate  for  immor- 
tality. But  there  is  nothing  in  his  posi- 
tion to  make  it  impracticable  that  he 
become  truly  religious,  nor  excusable 
that  he  defer  the  season  of  providing  for 
the  soul.  Be  his  difficulties  what  they 
may,  we  can  be  confident  that  they 
would  rapidly  disappear  before  the 
earnest  resolve  of  seeking  "  first  the  king- 
dom of  God  and  his  righteousness."  He 
has  but  to  begin,  and  presently  would 
he  find  that  obstacles,  which  appeared 
insurmountable,  are  gradually  lowered, 
and  that,  if  he  have  to  encounter  all  which 
he  dreaded,  it  is  in  a  strength  which 
grows  with  the  exigence.  What  we  fear 
for  this  man,  when  we  know  him  plied 
with  the  remonstrances  of  conscience,  it 
is  not  that,  if  he  set  himself  fearlessly  to 
regulate  his  conduct  by  the  revealed  will 
of  God,  he  may  find  that  he  has  not  time 
enough  for  religion,  or  that  the  trials  of 
his  station  are  too  great  to  be  surmount- 
ed ;  it  is  only  that  he  may  shield  himself 
behind  his  confessed  disadvantages,  and 
hold  himself  blameless  in  not  making  an 
attempt,  where  the  likelihood  of  success 
seems  so  slight.  We  would  come  down 
upon  him,  in  his  moment  of  indecision, 
when  conscience  is  rebuking  his  neglect 
of  the  one  thing  needful,  and  when  he 
strives  to  parry  the  rebuke,  by  asking  how 
he  can  attend  to  religion  whilst  the  very 
air  which  he  breathes  seems  impregnated 
with  wickedness  1  We  will  hear  nothing 
of  an  impossibility.  Time  may  be  made, 
prayer  may  be  offered,  the  Bible  may  be 
/ead,  vice  may  be  forsaken,  contempt 
may  be  braved,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  liv- 
ing God  fails  no  man  who  is  not  false  to 


himself.  And  if  he  plead  the  ungodliness 
of  the  family  in  which  he  is  placed,  and 
maintain  it  not  to  be  expected  that  righte- 
ousness should  be  acquired,  where  there 
is  every  thing  to  fasten  down  a  man  to 
evil,  we  require  of  him  to  go  with  us  in 
thought  to  the  household  of  Nero.  We 
tell  him  of  the  depravity  of  that  scourge 
and  disgrace  of  human-kind,  we  describe 
to  him  the  fierce  profligacy  which  per- 
vaded his  court  :  we  show  him  how  it 
was  like  rushing  into  the  flames,  then 
and  there  to  embrace  Christianity  :  and 
we  leave  him  to  think,  if  he  dare,  that 
any  scene,  or  association,  can  excuse  the 
neglect  of  religion,  when  St.  Paul  could 
single  out,  from  the  whole  mass  of  Roman 
christians,  "chiefly  them  that  were  of 
Caesar's  household." 

We  proceed  to  what  we  reckon  the 
most  important  of  the  remarks  which 
we  have  to  offer  on  the  passage  which 
forms  our  subject  of  discourse.  You  will 
observe  that  the  saints,  of  whom  St.  Paul 
speaks  in  the  text,  not  only  belonged  to 
Caesar's  household  at  the  time  of  their 
conversion  to  Christianity,  but  remained 
in  that  household  after  their  conversion. 
It  is  evident  that  they  did  not  feel  it  their 
duty  to  abandon  the  stations  in  which 
Providence  had  placed  them,  and  seek 
others  apparently  more  favorable  to  the 
growth  of  religion.  And  we  may  con- 
clude that  their  decision  was  right,  for, 
having  direct  intercourse  with  St.  Paul, 
who  could  furnish  them  with  rules  of 
conduct  derived  immediately  from  God, 
we  cannot  doubt  that  they  did  what  ought 
to  have  been  done.  So  that  it  does  not 
at  all  follow  that  a  man  is  to  withdraw 
himself  from  circumstances  of  danger  and 
difficulty,  and  strive  to  place  himself  in 
a  condition  where  there  shall  be  less 
temptation  or  opposition.  We  cannot, 
indeed,  think  that  a  converted  man  would 
be  justified  in  seeking  employment  where 
he  knew  that  it  would  be  specially  diffi- 
cult to  cultivate  religion  :  but  we  can  be- 
lieve that  he  might  be  justified  in  retain- 
ing his  employment,  supposing  him  thus 
placed  at  time  of  conversion.  To  desert 
his  employment,  because  it  made  reli- 
gion difficult,  would  be  to  declare  that  the 
grace,  which  had  converted  him,  in  spite 
of  disadvantages,  would  not  suffice  to  the 
establishing  and  perfecting  him  ;  and  thus 
would  his  first  step  mark  a  distrust  of 
God's  Spirit,  which  would  augur  but  ill 
for  his  after  progress.    If  an  employment 


48 


CESAR  S  HOUSEHOLD. 


were  in  itself  sinful,  if  it  actually  could 
not  be  carried  on  without  sin,  there  would 
be  no  room  for  debate  ;  it  must  be  aban- 
doned at  once,  though  utter  destitution 
might  seem  the  inevitable  consequence. 
Bnt  if  the  employment  be  only  dangerous, 
if  it  only  require  a  greater  measure  of 
circumspection,  vigilance,  and  boldness, 
the  foi-saking  it  may  prftve  timidity  ra- 
ther than  prudence ;  a  disposition  to 
evade,  rather  than  to  conquer. 

We  doubt,  for  example,  whether  a 
man,  roused  to  the  great  work  of  the 
saving  the  soul,  could  lawfully  seek  to 
place  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  temp- 
tations of  a  court,  and  surround  himself 
with  those  hinderances  to  spiritual  reli- 
gion which  too  often  abound  in  the 
palaces  of  princes.  But  it  would  make 
all  the  difference  if  he  were  a  courtier 
at  the  time  of  his  being  first  made  to  feel 
that  he  had  a  soul ;  a  court  is  a  lawful, 
though  a  dangerous,  residence;  and  it 
may  not  only  be  allowable,  it  may  even  be 
required  that  he  should  continue  where 
he  is,  and  take  advantage  of  his  position  to 
adorn  and  diffuse  Christianity.  It  might 
not  look  like  a  saint  to  seek  employment 
in  the  household  of  Caesar;  but  it  may 
be  the  very  part  of  a  saint  not  to  with- 
draw from  the  household,  and  descend 
into  humble  life.  A  religious  servant 
might  not  be  justified  in  wilfully  entering 
an  irreligious  family,  where  he  knew 
that  piety  would  be  discountenanced  in 
every  possible  way;  but  if  he  have  be- 
come religions  whilst  serving  in  the  irre- 
ligious family,  it  may  be  lawful  for  him 
to  remain,  nay,  it  may  be  unlawful  for 
him  to  leave  :  it  is  lawful  for  him  to  re- 
main, if  he  be  not  required  to  act  against 
his  conscience;  it  is  unlawful  for  him  to 
leave,  if  distinct  opportunity  be  afforded 
him  of  doing  honor  to  (rod,  and  pro- 
moting Christ's  cause.  And  this  latter 
supposition  will  probably  hold  good  in 
the  majority  of  cases.  When  one  mem- 
ber of  an  irreligious  household  is  con- 
verted, we  regard  him  as  the  panicle  of 
leaven,'. placed  by  God  in  the  midst  of 
an  unsound  mass  ;  and  the  circumstances 
must  be  very  peculiar,  which  would 
seem  to  us  to  warrant  the  vvithdraw- 
ment  of  this  particle,  so  that  the  mass 
should  be  again  void  of  any  righteous 
element. 

We  have  great  pleasure  in  contem- 
plating the  moral  power  with  which  God 
has  invested  the  meanest  of  his  people. 


It  is  too  common  to  judge  power  by 
station,  and  to  compute  the  influence 
which  a  man  may  exert  over  others,  by 
the  temporal  advantages  which  fall  to  his 
lot.  But  there  is  a  power  in  religion, 
irrespective  altogether  of  worldly  sta- 
tion :  a  power  which  may  indeed  be 
used  more  extensively,  if  its  possessor 
have  command  of  other  forces  besides, 
but  which  may  work  the  very  finest  re- 
sults, supposing  him  to  have  nothing 
else  to  wield.  We  refer  chiefly  to  the 
power  of  a  consistent  example  ;  and  we 
should  confidently  say  to  the  religious 
servant  in  the  irreligious  family,  that  it 
is  hardly  possible  to  overrate  the  service 
which  he,  or  she,  may  render  to  the 
cause  of  Christianity.  We  are  not  sup- 
posing the  servant  to  travel  beyond  the 
immediate  duties  of  his  station,  for  it  is 
no  recommendation  of  religion  when 
persons  put  themselves  forward,  and 
assume  offices  to  which  they  have  never 
been  called.  We  only  suppose  the  ser- 
vant to  carry  his  Christianity  in  all  his 
occupations,  and  this  will  be  sure  to 
make  him  the  most  respectful,  faithful, 
and  diligent  in  the  domestic  establish- 
ment. He  will  be  quickly  distinguished 
from  others  by  closer  attention  to  his 
master's  interests,  by  greater  care  of 
his  master's  property,  by  a  stricter  ad- 
herence to  truth,  and  by  a  more  obliging 
and  submissive  deportment.  It  is  no- 
thing to  tell  us  that,  often,  where  there  is 
a  religious  profession,  there  are  few  or 
none  of  these  characteristics;  this  is 
only  telling  us  that  hypocrisy  is  confined 
to  no  class  of  life,  but  may  flourish 
equally  in  the  kitchen  and  parlor.  Let 
there  be  real  religion,  and  whatever  a 
man's  station,  it  will  show  itself  in  the 
performance  of  the  duties  of  that  station. 
The  rule  admits  no  exceptions,  for  reli- 
gion seats  itself  in  the  heart,  and  thence 
influences  all  the  actions.  Therefore,  if 
there  be  one,  in  a  mass  of  irreligious 
domestics,  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  has 
brought  to  repentance  and  faith,  that 
one  will  rapidly  distinguish  himself  from 
the  rest  by  superior  civility,  diligence 
and  honesty. 

And  it  is  just  because  true  religion  will 
thus  necessarily  display  itself  in  the 
practice,  that  we  ascribe  to  it  a  power,  in 
every  rank  of  life,  of  acting  silently  upon 
others,  and  assimilating  them  to  itself. 
Let  the  irreligious  master  perceive  that 
there  is  no  one  in  his  household  so  trust- 


CESAR  S  HOUSEHOLD. 


49 


worthy  as  the  professed  disciple  of  Christ, 
no  one  on  whose  word  he  can  place 
such  dependence,  no  one  who  serves 
him  with  equal  industry  and  alacrity  ; 
and  it  can  hardly  fail  hut  that  this  master 
will  gradually  receive  an  impression 
favorable  to  religion,  whatever  may  have 
been  hitherto  his  opposition  and  pre- 
judice. There  is  something  mightily 
ennobling  in  this;  for  the  meanest  in 
a  household,  whose  days  are  consumed 
in  the  lowest  drudgeries  of  life,  is  thus 
represented  as  invested  with  a  high 
power  of  winning  triumphs  for  Christi- 
anity, and  turning  many  to  righteous- 
ness. There  may  be  families  to  which 
the  preacher  of  the  Gospel  can  gain  no 
access;  they  will  not  come  to  listen  to 
him  on.  the  Sabbath,  and  would  scowl  on 
him  es  an  intruder  in  the  week.  And 
what  instrumentality  is  there,  through 
which  to  act  on  sucli  families,  barred  up, 
as  they  are,  against  both  the  public  and 
the  private  ministrations  of  the  word  1 
Nothing  would  be  so  hopeful  as  the  in- 
strumentality of  pious  domestics ;  and, 
therefore,  God  forbid  that  such  domestics 
should  hastily  withdraw  themselves  from 
the  households.  We  look  to  the  pious 
servant  to  do  what  the  minister  of  the 
Gospel  has  no  opportunities  of  doing, 
to  publish  and  recommend  the  doctrine 
of  Christ,  not  by  officious  interference, 
and  unbecoming  reproof,  and  unasked- 
for  advice  ;  but  by  blamelessness  of  con- 
duct, by  devotedness  to  duty,  by  fidelity, 
by  humility,  by  obligingness.  We  send 
that  servant  as  our  missionary  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  inaccessible  family ; 
not  to  deliver  messages  with  his  lip,  but 
to  deliver  them  through  his  life;  and  we 
can  almost  venture  to  predict,  that  if  he 
do  indeed,  according  to  St.  Paul's  direc- 
tion to  servants,  "adorn  the  doctrine  of 
God  the  Savior  in  all  things,"  it  will 
gradually  come  to  pass  that  religion 
conciliates  some  measure  of  respect, 
that  those  above  him,  and  around  him, 
inquire  into  his  motives,  and  perhaps 
even  seek  for  themselves  what  works  so 
beautifully  in  another. 

But  if  we  may  fairly  contend  that 
such  an  influence  as  this  is  wielded  by 
a  righteous  domestic  in  an  unrighteous 
family,  we  can  feel  no  surprise,  that, 
when  God  had  won  to  himself  servants 
from  amongst  the  servants  of  Nero,  he 
permitted,  and  perhaps  even  commanded, 
*Jieir  remaining  in  the  service  of  the  pro- 

VOL.  II. 


fligate  emperor.  Who  knows  whether 
there  may  not,  at  first,  have  been  a 
solitary  convert,  one  who  held  but  a 
mean  place  in  the  imperial  household, 
and  who  may  have  desired  to  escape  at 
once  from  a  scene  where  there  seemed 
to  be  so  many  by  whom  he  might  be 
injured,  so  few  to  whom  he  could  do 
good  1  But  he  may  have  been  admon- 
ished to  remain  ;  and  by  the  mere  force 
of  a  consistent  deportment,  he  may  have 
borne  down  much  of  the  opposition  to 
Christianity,  till  at  last,  though  he  pre- 
vailed not  to  the  bringing  over  the 
bloody  emperor  himself,  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  goodly  company  of  be- 
lievers, and  a  church  of  the  Redeemer 
rose  in  the  very  midst  of  the  palace  of 
the  Caesars.  And  whether  or  not  it 
were  thus,  through  the  influence  of  a 
solitary  convert,  that  the  religion  of 
Jesus  established  itself  in  the  most  un- 
promising scene,  the  great  truth  remains 
beyond  controversy,  that  a  post  is  not  to 
be  forsaken  because  it  cannot  be  occu- 
pied without  peril  to  personal  piety. 
Let,  therefore,  any  amongst  yourselves, 
who  may  be  disposed  to  abandon  the 
station  in  which  God  has  placed  them, 
because  of  its  dangers  and  trials,  consider 
whether  they  may  not  have  been  thus 
circumstanced  for  the  very  purpose  of 
being  useful  to  others ;  and  whether, 
then,  it  does  not  become  them  to  persist 
in  hope,  rather  than  to  desert  it  in  fear. 
For  very  difficult  would  it  be  to  show 
that  any  can  have  more  cause  to  seek  a 
change  of  service,  than  men  converted 
from  amongst  the  courtiers  and  domes- 
tics of  Nero  ;  and,  nevertheless,  these 
christians,  with  an  apostle  for  their  im- 
mediate instructor,  adhered  steadfastly 
to  the  employments  in  which  conversion 
had  found  them  ;  so  that  they  were  to 
be  known  by  the  striking  description, 
"  The  saints  that  are  of  Caesar's  house- 
hold." 

But  we  have  not  yet  exhausted  the  in- 
structive truths  which  seem  fairly  deduci- 
ble  from  the  simple  statement  of  our  text. 
We  felt,  as  we  insisted  on  the  last  lesson 
— the  lesson  as  to  the  duty  of  remaining 
in  a  perilous  position — that  some  might 
feel  as  though  we  required  them  to  in- 
jure themselves  for  the  benefit  of  others  ; 
and  when  it  is  the  soul  which  is  at  stake, 
there  may  be  doubts  whether  a  sacrifice 
such  as  this  can  be  lawful.  We  main- 
tained it  to  be  right  that  Caesar's  house- 
7 


CESAR'S  HOUSEHOLD. 


hold  should  not  be  deserted  by  the  saints, 
because  ihose  Baints,  by  remaining  there, 
miglit  be  instrumental  to  the  conversion 
of  others  to  Christianity.  But,  surely,  it 
is  a  christian's  first  duly  to  give  heed  to 
his  own  growth  in  grace  ;  bow  then  can 
it  be  right  that,  with  the  vague  hope  of 
benefiting  others,  he  should  continue 
amongst  hinderances  to  bis  own  spiritual 
advancement  ? 

Brethren,  of  this  we  may  be  certain, 
that,  wheresoever  God  makes  it  a  man's 
duty,  there  will  be  make  it  his  interest 
to  remain.  IF  he  employ  one  oFhis  ser- 
vants in  turning  others  from  sin,  he  will 
cause  the  employment  to  conduce  to  that 
servant's  holiness.  Is  there  no  indication 
of  this  in  the  words  of  our  text  I  We 
lay  the  emphasis  now  upon  "chiefly," 
"chiefly  they  that  are  of  Caesar's  house- 
hold." OF  all  the  Roman  christians,  the 
foremost  in  that  love,  which  is  the  prime 
fruit  of  the  Spirit,  were  those  who  were 
found  amongst  the  courtiers  and  atten- 
dants of  Nero,  and  who  probably  remain- 
ed in  bis  service  for  the  express  purpose 
of  endeavoring  to  promote  the  cause  of 
the  Gospel.  Then  it  is  very  evident  that 
these  christians  sustained  no  personal 
injury,  but  rather  outstripped,  in  all  which 
should  characterize  believers,  others  who 
might  have  seemed  more  advantageously 
placed. 

Neither  do  we  feel  any  surprise  at  this  : 
it  is  just  the  result  for  which  we  might 
have  naturally  looked.  Is  it  the  absence 
of  temptation,  is  it  the  want  of  trial, 
which  is  most  Favorable  to  the  growth  of 
vital  Christianity  ]  is  it,  when  there  is 
least  to  harass  a  christian,  to  put  him  on 
his  guard,  or  keep  him  on  the  alert,  that 
he  is  most  likely  to  become  spiritually 
great  ?  IF  so,  then  men  were  right  in 
former  times,  who  Fancied  it  most  For  the 
interest  oF  the  soul  that  they  should  ab- 
solutely seclude  themselves  From  the 
world,  and,  withdrawing  to  some  lonely 
hermitage,  hold  communion  with  no  be- 
ing but  God.  But  this  we  believe  to 
have  been  an  error.  The  anchorite,  who 
never  mixed  with  his  fellow-men,  and  who 
was  never  exposed  to  the  temptations  re- 
sulting From  direct  contact  with  the  world, 
might  easily  persuade  himself  of  his  supe- 
rior sanctity,  and  as  easily  deceive  him- 
self. He  might  suppose  his  evil  passion 
subdued,  his  corrupt  propensities  eradi- 
cated, whereas,  the  real  state  of  the  case 
might  be,  that  the  evil  passions  were  on- 


ly quiet  because  not  solicited,  and  that 
the  propensities  were  not  urged  because 
there  was  nothing  to  excite  them.  Had 
be  been  brought  away  from  his  hermit- 
age, and  again  exposed  to  temptation,  it 
is  far  from  improbable  that  he,  who  had 
won  to  himself  a  venerated  name  by  his 
austerities,  and  who  was  presumed  to 
have  quite  mastered  the  appetites  and 
desires  of  an  unruly  nature,  would  have 
yielded  to  the  solicitations  with  which  he 
Found  himself  beset,  and  given  melan- 
choly proof  that  the  strength  of  his  virtue 
lay  in  its  not  being  tried.  And,  at  all 
events,  there  is  good  ground  for  reckon- 
ing it  an  erroneous  supposition,  that  piety 
must  flourish  best  where  least  exposed 
to  injury.  The  household  of  Ceesar  may 
be  a  far  better  place  for  the  growth  of 
personal  religion  than  the  cell  of  a  monk  : 
in  the  one,  the  christian  has  bis  graces 
put  continually  to  the  proof,  and  this 
tends  both  to  the  discovering  and  the 
strengthening  them  ;  in  the  other,  there 
is  comparatively  nothing  to  exercise  vir- 
tue, and  therefore  may  its  very  existence 
be  only  a  delusion. 

Why  then  is  the  courtier  to  think,  that, 
by  making  it  his  duty  to  remain  in  the 
dangerous  atmosphere  of  a  court,  we  re- 
quire him  to  sacrifice  himself  for  the 
benefit  of  others  1  or  the  servant,  that,  by 
bidding  him  stay  in  the  irreligious  family, 
we  doom  him  to  the  being  hindered  in 
the  spiritual  race]  Far  enough  from 
this.  Let  the  remaining  be  matter  of 
conscience,  and  the  advantageousness 
shall  be  matter  of  experience.  "The 
God  of  all  grace,"  who  has  promised  that 
his  people  shall  not  be  tempted  above 
that  they  are  able,  will  bestow  assistance 
proportioned  to  the  wants.  The  constant 
exposure  to  danger  will  induce  constant 
watchfulness  :  multipled  difficulties  will 
teach  the  need  of  frequent  prayer:  the 
beheld  wickedness  of  others  will  keep 
alive  an  earnest  desire,  that  the  earth 
may  be  "  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

And  why,  then,  should  not  personal 
piety  flourish  ]  why  should  it  be  stunted  ? 
why,  rather,  should  it  not  be  more  than 
commonly  vigorous]  Oh,  let  no  man 
think  that  he  cannot  be  expected  to  make 
great  progress  in  religion,  because  he  is 
obliged  to  be  much  in  contact  with  wick- 
edness, because  his  calling  in  life  is  one 
of  great  moral  danger,  keeping  him  as- 
sociated with  those  who  hate  good,  and 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


51 


employed  on  what  tends  to  increase 
vvoi idly-mindedness  1  It  will  probably 
be  from  situations  such  as  tins,  that  God 
shall  gather  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
the  most  eminent  of  his  servants.  It 
may  not  be  from  cloistered  solitudes, 
where  piety  had  but.  little  to  contend 
will),  that  the  distinguished  ones  shall 
advance  when  Christ  distributes  the 
prizes  of  eternity — it  may  rather  be 
from  the  court,  where  worldliness  reign- 
ed ;  from  the  exchange,  where  gold  was 
the  idol;  and  .  from  the  family,  where 
godliness  was  held  in  derision.  Not  that 
there  may  not  be  exalted  piety  where 
there  has  nut  been  extraordinary  trial. 
But  the  extraordinory  trial,  met  in  God's 
strength,  which  is  always  sufficient,  will 
be  almost  sure  to  issue  in  such  prayer- 
fulness,  such  faith,  such  vigilance,  such 
devotedness,  as  can  hardly  be  looked  for 
where  there  is  but  little  to  rouse,  to  alarm, 
and  to  harass.  Therefore,  let  those  be 
of  good  cheer,  who,  if  pious  at  all,  must 
be  pious  in  spite  of  a  thousand  hinder- 
ances  and'  disadvantages.  Let  these 
hinderances  and  disadvantages  only  make 


them  earnest  in  prayer  and  diligent  in 
labor,  and  they  will  prove  their  best  helps 
in  working  out  salvation.  Witness  the 
|'  chiefly  "  of  our  text.  There  were  none 
in  Rome,  in  whom  the  flame  of  christian 
love  was  so  bright,  as  in  those  confined 
to  the  most  polluted  of  ■atmospheres. 
God.  appointed  them  their  station  :  they 
submitted  in  obedience  to  his  will :  and 
the  result  was,  that  the  lamp,  which  you 
would  have  thought  must  have  gone  out 
in  so  pestilential  an  air,  burnt  stronger 
and  clearer  than  in  any  other  scene. 

Look,  then,  upon  your  enemies  as 
your  auxiliaries,  upon  your  dangers  as 
your  guardians,  upon  your  difficulties  as 
your  helps.  Christian  men,  and  chris- 
tian women,  ye  of  whom  God  asks  most 
in  asking  you  to  be  his  servants,  for  you 
he  reserves  most,  if,  indeed,  ye  be  "  faith- 
ful unto  death."  The  "chiefly"  of  the 
text  may  be  again  heard  ;  they  who  have 
been  first  in  godliness  shall  be  first  in 
glory  :  and  when  Christ  is  saying, 
"  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,"  it  may 
be  with  this  addition,  "chiefly  they  that 
were  of  Caesar's  household." 


SERMON   VI 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


"  On  that  night  could  not  the  king  sleep ;  and  he  commanded  to  bring  the  book  of  records  of  the  chronicles , 
they  were  read  before  the  king." — Esther  vi.  1. 


It  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  enter 
^somewhat  minutely  into  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  what  is  here 
mentioned,  that  you  may  be  prepared 
for  the  inferences  which  we  design  to 
draw  from  the  passage.  The  Book  of 
Esther  is  among  the  most  interesting 
of  the  narratives  contained  in  the  Old 
Testament,  furnishing  proofs,  as  remark- 
able as  numerous,  of  the  ever-watchful 


Providence  of  God.  The  king  of  the 
vast  Persian  Empire,  of  which  Judea 
was  at  this  time-  a  province,  had  put 
from  him  his  queen,  in  a  moment  of 
caprice  and  indignation,  and  advanced 
to  her  place  a  Jewess,  named  Esther, 
remarkable  for  her  beauty,  and  as  it 
afterwards  appeared,  for  her  piety  and 
courage.  This  Esther,  who  had  been 
left  an  orphan,  had  been  brought  up  as 


52 


THE  SLEEPLESS  N1UIIT. 


his  daughter  by  her  cousin  Mordecai, 
who,  having  been  "carried  away  from 
Jerusalem  with  the  captivity "  under 
Nebuchadnezzar,  had  obtained  some  ap- 
pointment in  the  royal  household  at 
Shushan.  The  relationship,  however, 
between  the  two  was  not  generally 
known  ;  and  Mordecai  instructed  Esther 
not  to  avow  herself  a  Jewess,  lest  the 
circumstance  might  operate  to  her  dis- 
advantage. This  very  concealment  ap- 
peals io  have  been  ordered  of  (rod,  and 
had  much  to  do  with  subsequent  events. 

The  king  had  a  favorite,  named  Ha- 
man  the  Agagite,  a  man  of  boundless 
ambition  and  pride,  who  acquired  com- 
plete ascendency  over  the  monarch. 
Honors  and  riches  were  heaped  on  this 
minion  ;  it  was  even  ordered,  as  it  would 
seem,  that  he  should  receive  the  same 
reverential  prostrations  as  were  rendered 
to  the  king,  and  which  appear  to  have 
gone  beyond  mere  tokens  of  respect, 
and  to  have  been  actually  of  an  idolatrous 
character.  Mordecai,  whose  religion 
forbade  his  giving,  in  any  measure,  to 
man  what  appertained  to  God,  refused 
to  join  the  other  servants'  of  the  king  in 
thus  honoring  Haman,  and  drew  remark 
upon  himself  by  remaining  standing 
whilst  they  fell  to  the  ground.  Mordecai 
had  been  unjustly  treated  ;  he  had  claim 
to  some  portion,  at  least,  of  the  honors 
conferred  upon  Haman,  though  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  anger,  or  envy, 
had  anything  to  do  with  his  conduct  to- 
wards the  favorite.  He  had  been  un- 
justly treated — for  he  had  discovered  a 
conspiracy,  on  the  part  of  two  of  the 
royal  chamberlains  to  assassinate  the 
king,  and  by  apprising  Esther  of  the 
bloody  design,  had  prevented  its  execu- 
tion. For  this  eminent  service,  however, 
he  obtained  no  reward  ;  his  merit  was 
overlooked,  and  he  still  sat  in  the  gate 
of  the  king. 

But  it  sorely  displeased  Haman  that 
Mordecai  refused  him  the  appointed 
tokens  of  reverence.  It  was  nothing  to 
this  haughty  man  that  he  had  reached  the 
highest  point  to  which  a  subject  could 
aspire,  so  long  as  he  had  to  encounter  a 
Jew  who  would  not  fall  prostrate  before 
him.  He  must  have  his  revenge — but 
it  shall  be  a  large  revenge  ;  it  were  little 
to  destroy  Mordecai  alone;  the  reasons 
which  produced  the  refusal  from  the  in- 
dividual might  operate  equally  on  the 
thousands  of  his  countrymen;  Mordecai 


then    shall  perish;    but  with  him  shall 
fall  also  the  whole  nation  of  the  Jews. 

It  was  a  bold,  as  well  as  a  bloody 
scheme,  such  as  could  not  have  been 
thought  of  except  under  an  eastern  des- 
potism. Haman,  however,  knew  that 
the  lives  ot  subjects  were  at.  the  disposal 
of  the  king,  so  that  if  he  could  but 
possess  himself  of  a  royal  edict  against 
the  Jews,  he  might  compass  his  stern 
purpose,  and  exterminate  the  people. 
He  sets,  therefore,  to  work;  but  he  will 
be  religious  in  his  wholesale  massacre; 
he  betakes  himself  to  the  casting  of  lots, 
that  he  may  ascertain  the  day  of  the  year 
most  favorable  to  his  project ;  and  the 
lots — for"  the  whole  disposing  thereof  is 
of  the  Lord  " — fixed  him  to  a  day  eleven 
months  distant,  and  by  thus  delaying  his 
atrocious  scheme,  gave  time  for  its  de- 
feat. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the 
iniquitous  decree  from  the  luxurious  and 
indolent  monarch  :  he  simply  told  him 
that  there  was  a  strange  people  scattered 
about  his  empire,  whom  it  would  be 
well  to  destroy,  and  offered  to  pay  a  large 
sum  into  the  royal  treasury,  to  balance 
any  loss  which  their  destruction  might 
occasion.  The  king,  without  making 
the  least  inquiry,  gave  Haman  his  ring, 
j  which  would  authorize  any  measure 
which  he  might  choose  to  adopt ;  and 
Hainan  immediately  circulated  the  san- 
guinary edict,  to  the  great  horror  of  the 
Jews,  and  the  consternation  of  the  whole 
empire.  On  this,  Mordecai  took  mea- 
sures for  communicating  with  Esther, 
apprised  her  of  the  ruin  which  hung 
over  her  nation,  and  urged  her  to  attempt 
intercession  with  the  king.  And  whilst 
Esther  was  doing  all  in  her  power  to 
arrange  a  favorable  opportunity  for 
pleading  the  cause  of  her  people,  there 
happened  the  singular  circumstance  re- 
corded in  the  text  :  his  sleep  went  from 
the  king ;  and  in  place  of  sending  for 
music,  or  other  blandishments,  to  soothe 
him  to  repose,  he  desired  to  hear  portions 
of  the  chronicles  of  the  empire.  Amongst 
other  things,  the  account  of  the  conspi-t, 
racy  which  Mordecai  had  discovered, 
was  read  to  him  ;  this  suggested  inquiry 
as  to  whether  Mordecai  had  been  re- 
compensed; this  again  produced  an 
order  for  his  being  instantly  and  signally 
honored — an  order  which,  as  instrusted 
to  Haman,  was  but  the  too  certain  herald 
of    that    favorite's    downfall.      Things 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


53 


now  went  on  rapidly  in  favor  of  the 
Jews  :  the  villany  of  Hainan  was  dis- 
closed to  the  king :  immediate  vengeance 
followed;  and  very  shortly  the  people, 
who  had  stood  within  an  ace  of  destruc- 
tion, had  gladness  and  light  in  their 
dwellings,  and  were  all  the  more  pros- 
perous through  the  defeated  plot  of  their 
enemies. 

Now  who  can  fail  to  perceive,  who 
can  hesitate  to  confess,  the  providence 
of  God  in  the  occurrences  thus  hastily 
reviewed  1  From  the  first,  from  the 
advancement  of  Esther  to  the  throne, 
a  higher  than  human  agency  was  mani- 
festly at  work  to  counteract  a  scheme  as 
distinctly  foreknown  as  though  God  had 
appointed,  in  place  of  only  permitting, 
the  sin.  The  conspiracy  of  the  two 
chamberlains ;  the  subsequent  neglect 
of  Mordecai  ;  the  distant  season  deter- 
mined by  the  lot — these  were  all  either 
ordered,  or  overruled,  by  God;  and  had 
a  part,  more  or  less  direct,  in  frustrating 
a  plot  which  aimed  at  nothing  less  than 
the  extinction  of  the  Jews.  But  perhaps 
the  most  memorable  of  the  evidences  of 
God's  special  providence  is  that  narrated 
in  the  text.  There  is  nothing,  indeed, 
surprising  in  the  mere  circumstance  that 
the  king  passed  a  sleepless  night ;  it 
may  have  arisen  from  many  natural 
causes  ;  and  we  are  not  at  all  required 
to  hold  that  there  was  anything  miracu- 
lous, anything  out  of  the  ordinary  course, 
in  his  finding  himself  unable  to  sleep. 
But  if  there  were  nothing  expressly 
done  to  banish  slumber  from  his  eyes, 
we  may  safely  say  that  advantage  was 
taken  of  the  sleeplessness  of  the  king, 
and  that  it  was  suggested  to  him  to  do 
what  he  was  little  likely  to  have  thought 
of.  How  improbable  that,  as  he  tossed 
from  side  to  side,  and  could  not  find 
rest,  he  should  have  fancied  the  being 
read  to  out  of  the  chronicles  of  the  em- 
pire, a  dry  narrative  it  may  be,  of  facts 
with  which  he  was  already  well  acquaint- 
ed, and  which  had  little  to  interest  a 
voluptuary  like  himself.  When  Darius 
had  allowed  Daniel  to  be  cast  into  the 
lions'  den,  and  was  "  sore  displeased 
with  himself"  for  what  he  had  done,  we 
read  that  "  instruments  of  music  were 
not  brought  before  him  :"  as  if,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  some  such  means 
as  the  cadences  of  melody  would  have 
been  used  to  cheat  him  into  slumber. 
But  Ahasuerus,  though  the  whole  his- 


tory proves  him  to  have  been  a  thorough 
sensualist,  sent  not  for  music,  but  for  the 
chronicles  of  the  kingdom  ;  indeed,  it 
was  at  the  prompting  of  another  spirit 
than  his  own,  or,  if  it  were  but  the  whim 
of  the  moment,  God  made  it  instrumental 
to  the  most  important  of  purposes. 

Then,  when  the  chronicles  were 
brought,  it  was  not  likely  that  the  part 
relating  to  Mordecai  would  be  read. 
It  might  have  been  expected  that  the 
reader  would  turn  to  portions  of  the 
records  which  were  not  so  well  known, 
as  better  fitted  to  divert  and  interest  the 
king.  Besides,  it  is  evident  enough  that 
Mordecai  was  no  favorite  with  the  other 
royal  servants  ;  they  were  disposed  to 
pay  court  to  Haman,  and  therefore  to 
side  with  him  in  his  quarrel  with  this 
refractory  Jew.  It  was  probable,  then, 
that  the  reader  would  avoid  the  account 
of  what  Mordecai  had  done,  not  wishing 
that  the  king  should  be  reminded  of  his 
signal,  but  unrequited,  services.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  all  the  chances — to  use 
common  language — against  the  recital 
of  Mordecai's  deed,  the  narrative  of  this 
deed  was  brought  before  the  king,  and 
its  effect  was  an  inquiry  as  to  the  reward 
of  the  man  who  had  been  so  eminently 
useful.  And  thus,  by  a  succession  of 
improbabilities,  but  not  one  of  those  im- 
probabilities so  great  as  to  seem  to  re- 
quire any  supernatural  interference,  was 
a  result  brought  round,  or  at  least  ad- 
vanced, which  mightily  concerned,  not 
only  the  Jewish  nation,  but  the  whole 
human  race;  for  had  the  plan  of  Haman 
succceeded,  and  that  people  been  exter- 
minated whence  Messiah  was  to  spring, 
where  would  have  been  the  promised 
redemption  of  this  earth  and  its  guilty 
inhabitants  1 

It  is  hardly  affirming  too  much,  to 
affirm  that  on  the  sleepless  night  of  the 
Persian  king  was  made  to  depend  our 
rescue  from  everlasting  death  ;  at  least, 
and  undeniably,  the  restlessness  of  the 
king  was  one  of  those  instruments 
through  which  God  wrought  in  carrying 
on  his  purpose  of  redeeming  our  race 
through  a  descendant  from  David  "  ac- 
cording to  the  flesh."  Wonderful,  that 
so  simple,  so  casual  a  circumstance 
should  have  had  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
destinies  of  men  from  Adam  to  the  very 
latest  posterity  !  wonderful,  that  the  dis- 
turbed and  broken  rest  of  a  single  in- 
dividual should  have  aided  the  reconcil- 


54 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


iation  of  the  whole  world  to  God  !  Let 
us  contemplate  the  fact  with  yet  closer 
attention.  We  wish  to  impress  on  you 
a  strong  sense  of  the  ever-watchful  pro- 
vidence of  God,  of  his  power  in  over- 
ruling all  things,  so  that  they  subserve 
his  fixed  purposes,  and  of  the  facility 
wherewith  he  can  produce  amazing*  re- 
sults, through  simple  instrumentality. 
Whither  then  shall  we  lead  you  1  Not 
to  any  strange  or  startling  scene,  where 
there  are  clear  tokens  of  Divine  inter- 
ference and  supremacy.  Come  with  us 
merely  to  the  couch  of  the  Persian  king, 
on  that  night  when  sleep  went  from  his 
eyes ;  and  remembering  that  his  sleep- 
lessness was  directly  instrumental  to  the 
defeating  the  foul  plot  of  Haman,  let  us 
consider  what  facts  are  established  by 
the  exhibition,  and  what  practical  les- 
sons it  furnishes  to  ourselves. 

My  brethren,  examine  your  notions 
of  God,  and  tell  me  whether  you  are 
not  apt  to  measure  the  Supreme  Being 
by  standards  established  between  man 
and  man.  The  Divine  greatness  is  re- 
garded as  that  of  some  very  eminent 
king  :  what  would  be  inconsistent  with 
the  dignity  of  the  potentate  is  regarded 
as  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  God  ; 
and  what  seems  to  us  to  contribute  to 
that  dignity  is  carried  up  to  the  heaven- 
ly courts,  or  supposed  to  exist  there  in 
the  highest  perfection.  We  do  not  say 
that  men  are  to  be  blamed  for  thus  aid- 
ing their  conceptions  of  Deity  by  the 
facts  and  figures  of  an  earthly  estate. 
Limited  as  our  faculties  are,  and  un- 
suited  to  comprehend  what  is  spiritual 
— confined,  moreover,  as  we  are  to  a 
material  world — it  is,  in  a  measure,  un- 
avoidable that,  we  should  picture  God  in 
human  shape,  or  rather,  that  we  should 
take  the  standards  which  subsist  among 
ourselves,  and  use  them  in  representing, 
or  setting  forth,  our  Maker.  But  we 
should  often  gain  a  grander  and  a  juster 
idea  of  God,  by  considering  in  what  he 
differs  from  men,  than  by  ascribing  to 
him,  only  in  an  infinite  degree,  what  is 
found  amongst  ourselves.  You  may 
picture  God  as  a  potentate  with  bound- 
less resources  at  his  disposal,  possessed 
of  universal  dominion,  and  surrounded 
by  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
ministering  spirits,  each  waiting  to  do 
his  pleasure,  and  each  mighty  as  that 
angel  of  death  which  prostrated,  in  a 
single  night,  the  vast  hosts  of  the  As- 


syrian. There  is  nothing  wrong  in  this 
representation  of  Deity,  except  that  il 
must  come  immeasurably  short  of  the 
reality  :  it  is  correct  as  far  as  it  goes  ; 
but  when  we  have  heaped  figure  upon 
figure,  attributing  to  God  every  con- 
ceivable instrument  of  power,  we  have, 
indeed,  depicted  him  as  mighty,  in  the 
sense  in  which  an  earthly  monarch  may 
be  mighty;  but,  virtually,  we  can  have 
made  no  approach  towards  the  actual 
state  of  that  omnipotent  Being,  who 
"sitteth  on  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and 
the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grasshop- 
pers." 

And,  after  all,  it  is  not  by  putting 
unbounded  resources  at  the  disposal  of 
God,  and  representing  him  as  working 
through  stupendous  instrumentality,  that 
we  frame  the  highest  notions  of  him  as 
a  sovereign  or  ruler.  Keep  out  of  sight 
the  unbounded  resources,  the  stupen- 
dous instrumentality;  survey  him  as 
effecting  what  he  wills  through  a  mean 
and  insignificant  agency  ;  and  you  more 
separate  between  the  Creator  and  the 
creature,  and  therefore  go  nearer,  it  may 
be,  to  the  true  idea  of  God.  There  is 
something  sublimer  and  more  over- 
whelming in  those  sayings  of  Scripture, 
"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  suck- 
lings hast  thou  ordained  strength ;  " 
"  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of 
the  world  to  confound  the  wise,  the 
weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound 
the  things  which  are  mighty  ;"  than  in 
the  most  magnificent  and  gorgeous  de- 
scription of  dominion  and  strength.  This 
is  just  what  the  earthly  potentate  cannot 
do  :  he  must  have  causes  proportionate 
to  effects,  agencies  commensurate  with 
results ;  and  it  were  utterly  vain  for 
him  to  think  of  ordaining  strength  from 
babes  and  sucklings,  of  confounding 
wise  things  with  foolish,  or  mighty  with 
weak.  This  is  the  prerogative  of  Deity 
alone  ;  and  because  in  this  he  is  a'to- 
gether  separated  from  his  creatures, 
therefore  is  this  more  a  sign  or  attribute 
of  Deity,  than  any  assemblage  of  forces 
which  Scripture  may  mention,  or  any 
celestial  army  which  imagination  can 
array. 

Observe,  then,  how  wonderful  is  God, 
in  that  he  can  accomplish  great  ends 
by  insignificant  means.  Christianity,  for 
example,  diffused  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  twelve  legions  of  angels, 
would  have  been  immeasurably  inferior, 


THG  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


55 


as  a  trophy  of  Omnipotence,  to  Christi- 
anity diffused  through  the  instrumental- 
ity of  twelve  fishermen.  When  I  sur- 
vey the  heavens,  with  their  glorious 
troop  of  stars,  and  am  told  that  the  Al- 
mighty employs  to  his  own  majestic 
ends  the  glittering'  hosts  as  they  pursue 
their  everlasting  march,  I  experience  no 
surprise:  I  seem  to  feel  as  though  the 
spangled  firmament  were  worthy  of"  be- 
ing employed  by  the  Creator  ;  and  I  ex- 
pect a  magnificent  consummation  from 
60  magnificent  an  instrumentality.  But 
show  me  a  tiny  insect,  just  floating  in 
the  breeze,  and  tell  me,  that,  by  and 
through  that  insect,  will  God  carry  for- 
ward the  largest  and  most  stupendous 
of  his  purposes,  and  I  am  indeed  filled 
with  amazement;  I  cannot  sufficiently 
admire  a  Being,  who,  through  that  which 
I  could  crush  with  a  breath,  advances 
what  I  cannot  measure  with  thought. 
And  is  there  any  thing  strained  or  in- 
correct, in  associating  with  an  insect  the 
redemption  of  the  world?  Nay,  not  so. 
In  saving  the  race  whence  Messiah  was 
to  spring,  God  worked  through  the  dis- 
turbed sleep  of  the  Persian  monarch, 
and  the  buzz  of  an  inconsiderable  insect 
might  have  sufficed  to  break  that  mon- 
arch's repose. 

You  have  another  instance  in  Scrip- 
ture of  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  chosen 
seed,  and  thus  to  frustrate  the  promises 
in  which  the  whole  world  had  interest. 
It  was  made  by  Pharaoh,  king  of  Egypt, 
who,  not  content  with  enslaving  and  op- 
pressing the'  Israelites,  sought  to  effect 
their  extinction  through  destroying  all 
their  male  children.  And  when  God  in- 
terfered on  behalf  of  his  people,  it  was 
with  miracle  and  prodigy,  with  a  mighty 
band  and  a  stretched-out  arm.  Every 
one  seems  to  feel  that  the  agency  was 
here  adequate  to  the  exigence  :  when 
the  very  scheme  of  redemption  may  be 
said  to  have  been  in  jeopardy,  no  one  is 
surprised,  either  that  God  came  forth 
from  his  solitude  clad  in  his  might,  or 
that,  interposing  in  so  awful  a  manner, 
he  should  have  confounded  and  scatter- 
ed bis  enemies.  The  interposition  re- 
sembled what  might  have  been  looked 
for  from  an  earthly  king,  who,  finding 
his  will  obstructed  in  some  province  of 
his  empire,  should  hasten  thither  with 
his  armies,  and  subdue  by  superior 
might  the  rebels  and  antagonists.  But 
when  the  peril  was  greater  and  more 


immediate,  for  certainly  the  project  of 
Haman  threatened  worse  than  that  of 
Pharaoh,  there  was  no  miracle — no 
prodigy  :  swarms  of  flies  did  not  darken 
the  land,  though  perhaps  a  single  fly 
was  made  use  of  by  God.  Yet  who 
does  not  perceive  that  herein  was  the 
wonderfulness  of  God  more  displayed, 
than  in  all  the  supernatural  terrors  which 
devastated  Egypt?  Let  it  be,  that  God 
caused  Ahasuerus  to  be  sleepless,  or 
only  knew  that  he  would  be;  that  he 
prompted  him  to  send  for  the  chronicles, 
or  only  knew  that  he  would  send  ;  that 
he  secretly  suggested  to  the  reader  what 
parts  to  take,  or  simply  foresaw  his  se- 
lection— in  either  case  what  a  tissue  of 
insignificant  causes  is  here  !  but,  at  the 
same  time,  what  a  Being  must  that  be, 
who  could  hang  a  world  on  such  a  web, 
any  thread  of  which  might  have  been 
broken  by  a  thought,  but  not  without 
deranging  and  dislocating  the  whole ! 
To  have  interfered  with  visible  miracle, 
would  have  been  nothing  compared  to 
the  thus  secretly  and  silently  operating 
through  natural  and  inconsiderable 
things.  Indeed,  it  was  a  display  of  De- 
ity, when  the  oppressors  of  Israel  quail- 
ed before  a  power  which  strewed  the 
earth  with  ruin,  and  shrouded  the  hea- 
vens in  darkness.  But  it  accords  with 
our  notions  of  greatness,  that  mighty 
means  should  be  employed  to  mighty 
ends  :  if  God  have  at  his  disposal  the 
thunder,  the  storm,  and  the  pestilence, 
we  marvel  not,  that,  by  employing  such 
artillery,  he  should  frustrate  the  plots  of 
the  enemies  of  his  church.  Can  he  dis- 
pense with  this  artillery  1  can  he  work 
without  miracles,  when  some  great  crisis 
arrives,  and  the  counsels  of  eternity 
seem  on  the  eve  of  defeat  ]  Indeed  he 
can.  He  is  too  great  to  find  any  instru- 
ment little.  He  Can  work  with  the  in- 
sect's wing  just  as  well  as  with  the  arch- 
angel's. And,  after  adoring  him,  as  he 
passes  through  Egypt  in  the  chariot  of  his 
strength,  working  out  the  emancipation 
of  his  people  by  portents  and  plagues,  I 
fall  before  him  as  yet  more  amazing  in 
wisdom  and  power,  when  I  find  the 
bloody  purpose  of  Haman  defeated 
through  such  instrumentality  as  this ; 
"  The  king  could  not  sleep,  and  he  com- 
manded to  bring  the  book  of  the  records 
of  the  chronicles,  and  they  were  read 
before  the  king." 

Now  we  omitted  a  circumstance,  in 


56 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


our  hasty  summary  of  the  facts  of  the 
history,  which  ought  to  lie  pointed  out, 
that  you  may  thoroughly  perceive  the 
workings  of  divine  Providence.  At  tlie 
very  moment  that  the  king  was  listening 
to  the  chronicles  of  the  empire,  the  wick- 
ed Hainan  was  standing  in  the  court, 
waiting  for  an  audience.  He  had  risen 
early  that  he  might  prefer  a  request  to 
the  king,  a  request  for  the  immedate  ex- 
ecution of  Mordecai.  At  the  suggestion 
of  his  wife,  he  had  caused  a  gallows  to 
he  erected,  and  now  sought  the  royal 
permission  for  hanging  the  object  of  his 
inveterate  hatred.  Only  remember  with 
what  facility  the  king  had  granted  Ha- 
man's  request,  when  it  asked  the  destruc- 
tion of  thousands,  and  you  will  hardly 
think  it  likely  that  he  would  have  shown 
any  hesitation  in  consenting  to  the  death 
of  a  solitary  individual,  and  that,  too,  an 
individual  already  doomed  by  the  issued 
decree.  And  if  Mordecai  had  fallen,  it 
does  not  indeed  necessarily  follow  that 
Esther  would  have  faded  in  her'  inter- 
cession with  the  king;  but  it  is  not  too 
much  to  suppose  that  she  would  have 
been  staggered  and  paralyzed  through 
the  loss  of  her  kinsman  and  adviser,  and 
perhaps  have  taken  his  death  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  uselessness  of  resisting  the 
insolent  Hainan.  Mordecai  was,  hu- 
manly speaking,  the  great  obstruction 
to  the  execution  of  Hainan's  plot;  and, 
this  having  been  removed,  unless  some 
new  counteracting  engines  bad  been  set 
at  work  by  God,  the  whole  nation  of 
the  Jews  must  have  simultaneously  per- 
ished. Thus  it  was,  you  perceive,  pre- 
cisely at  the  critical  moment  that  bis 
sleep  went  from  the  king;  the  sleepless 
night  saved  Mordecai,  and  Mordecai 
saved  the  nation.  We  have  not,  then, 
put  the  case  too  strongly,  in  representing 
the  scheme  of  the  redemption  of  the 
world  as  having  depended  on  the  rest- 
lessness of  the  monarch  of  Persia.  We 
do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  say,  that,  had 
the  king  slept  through  the  night,  God 
would  not.  have  employed  some  other 
instrumentality  in  furthering  his  purpose 
of  mercy  towards  men.  But  we  have 
only  to  do  with  instrumentality  actually 
employed  :  and,  indeed,  it  is  unbecoming 
in  us  even  to  suppose  the  case  that  the 
king  might  have  slept ;  for  this  is  to  sup- 
pose that  God's  foreknowledge  might 
have  been  at  fault,  a  contingency  having 
beeu    reckoned   upon   which  had  never 


arisen.  It  was  clearly,  therefore,  so 
ordered  by  Providence,  that  the  deliver- 
ance of  the  Jews,  and,  with  it,  the  re- 
demption of  the  world,  should  hinge  on 
the  fact  of  his  sleep  going  on  one  par- 
ticular night  from  Ahasuerus,  the  mon- 
aicb  of  Persia. 

And  having  already  called  on  you  to 
admire  the  wonderfulness  of  God,  in  that 
he  could  operate  to  so  mighty  an  end 
through  so  inconsiderable  an  agency,  we 
would  have  you  carefully  observe  how 
little  there  was  which  could  be  called 
supernatural  interference;  how  simply, 
without  any  violence,  the  divine  Provi- 
dence effected  its  purpose.  Now  that 
the  whole  is  over,  we  can  clearly  trace 
the  band  of  God  :  but,  whilst  the  matter 
was  in  progress,  we  might  have  discerned 
nothing  but  ordinary  and  every-day 
events,  such  as  afforded  no  sign  of  the 
interference  of  Deity.  We  have  not 
taken  on  ourselves  to  decide  whether 
God  actually  caused,  or  only  foreknew, 
the  king's  sleepless  night ;  whether  he 
turned  the  king's  mind  towards  the 
chronicles  of  the  empire,  or  merely 
foresaw  its  direction.  But  let  it  be 
supposed,  as  is  sufficiently  probable,  that 
there  was  more  than  foreknowledge, 
that  God  banished  sleep  from  the  king's 
eyes,  and  directed  his  thoughts  to  the 
chronicles,  how  natural  was  the  whole 
thing  !  how  little  interference  was  there 
with  the  usual  course  of  events  !  No 
one  could  have  suspected  that  a  divine 
agency  was  at  work  :  it  was  no  ways 
singular  that  the  king  should  be  restless  : 
no  miracle  was  required  to  explain  his 
choosing  to  hear  the  records  of  his  em- 
pire :  every  thing  was  just  what  might 
have  equally  happened,  bad  matters  been 
left  to  themselves,  in  place  of  having 
been  disposed  and  directed  by  God. 

We  wish  you  to  observe  this  very 
carefully,  because  it  goes  to  the  setting 
under  a  right  point  of  view  the  utility  of 
prayer,  which  is  often  objected  against 
as  though  it  sought  miracles,  or  expected 
God  to  interrupt,  at  our  call,  the  estab- 
lished course  and  order  of  things.  The 
Jews,  at  the  bidding  of  Esther,  had  given 
themselves  to  fasting  and  prayer,  sup- 
plicating of  the  Almighty  that  she  might 
be  favorably  received  of  the  king,  and 
thus  enabled  to  adopt  measures  for  dis- 
comfiting Haman.  And  independently 
on  this  set  supplication  on  behalf  of  the 
queen,  we  may  be  sure,  that,  no  sooner 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


57 


nad  the  edict  gone  forth  which  doomed 
them  to  death,  than  the  Jews  betook 
themselves  to  prayer  to  the  God  of  their 
fathers,  imploring  of  him  that  he  would 
vanquish  their  foes,  and  not  suffer  the 
promises  to  fail,  of  which,  for  centuries, 
they  had  been  the  depository.  And 
perhaps  they  looked  for  visible  and 
miraculous  interference  in  answer  to 
their  prayers  :  it  had  been  God's  course, 
in  other  emergencies,  to  make  bare  his 
arm  in  defence  of  his  people  :  might  he 
not  now  be  expected  to  appear  in  his 
terrors,  and  scatter,  by  the  brightness  of 
his  presence,  whatsoever  had  leagued 
against  his  church  and  himself]  But 
they  looked  in  vain,  if  they  looked  for  sen- 
sible evidence  that  God  had  not  forgotten 
his  covenant:  there  came  no  prodigy  to 
sustain  their  sinking  spirits  :  if  Mordecai 
appeared  raised  up,  as  Moses  had  been, 
to  counsel  and  lead  them  in  their  diffi- 
culties ;  alas  !  he  had  not  the  rod  of  the 
lawgiver  to  wave  over  the  land,  and  make 
oppressors  tremble. 

Was  God,  then,  not  hearkening  to 
prayer]  was  he  not  intending,  or  pre- 
paring, to  answer  it  ]  Indeed,  his  ear 
was  open  to  the  cry  of  his  people,  and 
the  event  sufficiently  showed  that  he  had, 
all  along,  been  working  for  their  safety. 
But,  as  though  to  prove  to  us  that,  even 
in  the  worst  extremity,  he  may  interpose 
on  our  behalf,  and  nevertheless  not  de- 
range the  common  order  of  things  :  he 
frustrated  the  apparently  secure  plot  of 
Hainan  without  the  least  approach  to  a 
miracle.  And  do  you  not  perceive  what 
encouragement  this  affords  in  the  matter 
of  prayer,  and  how  it  scatters  the  objec- 
tions which  numbers  would  urge  1  The 
scorner  would  tell  me  of  fixed  and  im- 
mutable laws,  according  to  which  things 
must  proceed  in  regular  succession  and 
train :  he  would  persuade  me  of  the 
utter  absurdity  of  addressing  petitions 
to  God,  seeing  that,  if  he  answer  them, 
it  must  be  by  interfering  with  what  is 
settled  and  constant,  by  the  working  of 
miracles,  which,  from  their  very  nature, 
he  cannot  often  work.  But  it  is  a  false 
statement.  I  do  not  look  for  miracle  to 
be  wrought  in  answer  to  prayer — though, 
all  the  while,  I  thoroughly  believe  that, 
were  a  case  to  arise  in  which  nothing 
short  of  miracle  would  meet  the  cir- 
cumstances of  a  servant  of  God,  the 
miracle  would  not  be  withheld:  stars 
shall  forsake  their  courses,  the  sun  and 
Vol.  II. 


the  moon  shall  put  on  sackcloth,  ere  any 
thing  shall  fail  which  God  has  promised 
to  the  righteous,  and  which  is  needful 
to  their  steadfastness  or  progress.  But 
it  is  not  required  that  there  should  be 
miracle  in  order  to  our  prayers  being 
granted;  neither  does  the  granting  them 
suppose  that  God  ia  variable,  or  changes 
in  his  purposes.  There  was  no  miracle 
in  his  causing  Ahasuerus  to  pass  asleep- 
less  night  :  a  little  heat  in  the  atmos- 
phere, or  the  buzzing  of  an  insect,  might 
have  produced  the  result;  and  philo- 
sophy, with  all  its  sagacity,  could  not  have 
detected  any  interruption  of  the  known 
laws  of  nature.  Neither  were  God's 
purposes  variable,  though  it  may  have 
actually  depended  on  the  importunity 
of  prayer,  whether  or  not  the  people 
should  be  delivered.  God's  appointment 
may  have  been,  that  he  would  break  the 
king's  sleep  if  prayer  reached  a  certain 
intenseness ;  that  he  would  not  break 
it  if  it  came  below  that  intenseness  :  and 
surely,  this  would  accord  equally  with 
two  propositions — the  first,  that  the 
divine  purposes  are  fixed  and  immutable ; 
the  second,  that  notwithstanding  this 
fixedness  and  immutability,  they  may  be 
affected  by  human  petitions,  and  there- 
fore leave  room  for  importunate  prayer. 
And  thus  I  am  mightily  encouraged 
in  all  the  business  of  prayer  by  the  broken 
rest  of  the  Persian  king.  Comparative- 
ly, I  should  not  be  encouraged,  were  I 
told  that  what  disquieted  the  monarch 
had  been  the  standing  of  a  spectre  by  his 
bedside,  an  unearthly  form,  which,  in 
unearthly  accents,  had  upbraided  him 
with  leaving  Mordecai  unrequited.  Here 
would  have  been  miracle,  a  departure 
from  ordinary  laws ;  and  I  know  that  such 
departure  must  be  necessarily  rare,  and 
could  hardly  be  looked  for  in  any  exi- 
gence of  mine  own.  But  when  I  observe 
that  the  king's  rest  was  disturbed  without 
any  thing  supernatural  ;  that  all  which 
God  had  to  do  in  order  to  arrange  a  great 
deliverance  for  his  people,  was  to  cause 
a  sleepless  night,  but  so  to  cause  it  that 
no  one  could  discern  his  interference; 
then,  indeed,  I  learn  that  I  may  not  be 
asking  what  the  world  counts  miracle, 
though  I  ask  what  transcends  all  power 
but  divine.  It  may  be  by  natural  proces- 
ses that  God  effects  what  might  pass  for 
supernatural  results.  Shall  I  not  cry  for 
deliverance  from  the  dungeon  into  which 
a  tyrant  has  cast  me,  or  from  the  tempest 


5S 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


which  has  overtaken  me  1  Shall  I  be  si- 
lent, because  it  were  like  asking  for  mir- 
acle, to  ask  that  the  prison  doors  might 
be  loosened,  or  for  interruption  of  the 
known  laws  of  nature,  to  entreat  that  the 
agitated  elements  might  be  hushed? 
Nay,  not  so.  God,  who  succored  the 
Jews  through  giving  one  man  a  sleepless 
night,  may,  by  the  dropping  of  a  pin,  in- 
cline the  "tyrant  to  release  me,  or,  by  a 
feather's  weight  in  those  laboratories 
which  science  never  penetrated,  repress 
the  rushings  of  the  storm.  I  am  deliver- 
ed from  the  dungeon,  I  am  saved  from 
the  tempest,  without  exciting  the  surprise 
of  the  world,  because  without  any  palpa- 
ble derangement  of  the  common  order  of 
things;  but  nevertheless  through  an  ex- 
press answer  to  prayer,  or  a  direct  inter- 
ference on  the  part  of  the  Almighty. 

Oh,  there  is  something  in  this  which 
should  be  vvoudrously  encouraging  to  all 
who  feel  their  insignificance,  and  can 
scarce  venture  to  think  that  the  high  and 
glorious  God  will  exert  his  omnipotence 
on  their  behalf.  If  the  registered  de- 
liverances, vouchsafed  to.  the  church, 
were  all  deliverances  which  had  been  ef- 
fected through  miracles,  we  might  ques- 
tion whether  they  afforded  any  precedent, 
on  which  creatures  like  ourselves  could 
justly  rest  hope.  We  dare  not  think 
that  for  us,  for  our  safety  or  advancement, 
armed  squadrons  will  be  seen  on  the 
heavens,  or  the  earth  be  convulsed,  or 
the  waters  turned  into  blood.  But  look 
from  Israel  delivered  from  Pharaoh  to 
Israel  delivered  from  Hainan,  and  we  are 
encouraged  to  believe  that  God  will  not 
fail  even  us  in  our  extremity,  seeing  that 
he  could  save  the  people  through  such  a 
simple  and  unsuspected  process  as  this  : 
"On  that  night  could  not  the  king  sleep, 
and  he  commanded  to  bring  the  book  of 
the  records  of  the  chronicles." 

But  we  would  now  lead  you  alono-  a 
train  of  thought  quite  different  from  the 
preceding,  but  naturally  flowing  from  the 
circumstances  under  review.  We  wish 
you  again,  and  more  distinctly,  to  observe, 
that,  even  on  the  supposition  that  God 
produced,  and  did  not  merely  overrule 
what  took  place,  there  was  nothing  to 
excite  a  consciousness  of  Divine  inter- 
ference :  the  whole  process  was  so  natur- 
al that  its  subject  might  never  have  sus- 
pected the  special  workings  of  God.  It 
cannot  for  a  moment  be  alleged,  that  any 
thing  like  compulsion  was  laid  upon  the 


kjng,  that  his  free  agency  was  destroyed, 
so  that  he  was  necessitated,  against  Im 
will,  to  adopt  a  particular  course.  It  was 
not  indeed  optional  with  Ahasuerus 
whether  or  not  he  would  be  wakeful; 
neither  was  it  at  his  own  choice,  whether 
or  not  the  thought  should  cross  his  mind  of 
sending  for  the  chronicles  of  the  empire  ; 
but  we  may  fairly  suppose  that  he  could 
have  resisted  this  thought  had  he  pleased. 
He  might  have  said  to  himself,  "These 
chronicles  will  never  soothe  me  to  sleep  : 
I  will  try  something  better  suited  to  my 
purpose  " — and  thus  might  he  have  with- 
stood the  impulse,  and  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  discovering  and  correcting  his 
faults.  We  do  not  of  course  mean,  as 
we  have  hinted  before,  that  Hainan's 
plot  would  not  have  been  defeated,  had 
the  king  not  done  according  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  God.  God  designed  that  the 
plot  should  be  defeated  ;  and  he  would, 
therefore,  have  been  sure  to  bring  to  bear 
an  adequate  instrumentality.  But  the 
point  under  consideration  is,  that  the 
agency  employed  on  the  king  was  so 
natural,  so  indistinguishable  from  the 
workings  of  his  own  mind,  that  he  could 
never  have  suspected  a  Divine  inter- 
ference, and  must  have  been  perfectly  at 
liberty  either  to  do,  or  not  to  do,  as  the 
secret  impulse  prescribed. 

And  in  this,  my  brethen,  we  have  a 
striking  illustration  of  God's  ordinary 
course  in  his  dealings  with  men — those 
dealings,  we  specially  mean,  through 
which  he  would  effect  their  conversion 
or  renewal.  If  you  examine  theoretical- 
ly into  the  consistence  of  human  liberty 
with  the  operations  of  Divine  grace — if, 
that  is,  you  seek  to  show,  with  thorough 
precision,  that  the  influences  of  God's 
Spirit  on  our  minds  in  no  degree  inter- 
fere with  free  agency — it  is  possible  that 
you  will  involve  yourselves  in  a  labyrinth, 
and  seek  vainly  for  the  clue  by  which  you 
might  be  extricated.  But,  practically, 
there  is  no  difficulty  whatsoever  in  the 
matter:  we  may  fairly  say,  that,  whilst 
suggestions  are  secretly  generated,  and 
impulses  applied  to  our  minds,  we  are 
thoroughly  at  liberty  to  act  as  we  choose  : 
it  depends  on  ourselves,  on  the  exercise 
of  our  own  will,  whether  the  suggestions 
be  cherished  or  crushed,  whether  the  im- 
pulses be  withstood  or  obeyed.  And  we 
know  nothing  of  which  it  is  more  impor- 
tant that  men  be  aware,  than  of  the  natur- 
alness, so  to  speak,  of  the  Spirit's  opera- 


THE  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT. 


59 


lions  ;  for  many  are  disposed  to  wait  for 
what  tliey  count  supernatural  influence 
— influence  which  shall  palpably  not  be 
of  this  earth,  and  which  shall  virtually 
leave  them  no  freedom  of  choice.  But 
without  denying  that  cases  sometimes 
occur,  in  which  the  operations  of  the 
Spirit  thus  force  attention  to  their  origin, 
it  is  unquestionable  that  his  ordinary 
operations  are  just  such  as  may  pass  for 
the  workings  of  our  own  minds  :  there 
is  nothing  in  them  to  tell  us,  that  we  are, 
at  that  moment,  being  subjected  to  the 
agency  of  Omnipotence  ;  nothing  to  ex- 
cite the  startling  conviction,  that  we  are 
verily  wrought  upon  by  that  renovating 
power,  which  is  to  mould  out  of  fallen 
humanity  a  habitation  for  Deity  himself. 
And  because  the  operations  of  the  Spirit 
are  commonly  not  distinguishable  from 
those  of  our  own  minds,  the  danger  is 
very  great  of  their  being  overlooked  or 
despised;  and  the  duty  is,  therefore, 
most  pressing,  of  our  being  ever  on  the 
watch  for  his  suggestions  and  impulses. 
The  position  of  the  unconverted  man 
is  often  precisely  that  of  the  king  Ahas- 
uerus.  There  is  a  restlessness,  an  un- 
easiness, for  which  he  cannot  give  any 
definite  reason;  it  has  come  upon  him, 
he  hardly  knows  whence  ;  and  he  turns 
from  side  to  side,  expecting  to  recover 
his  moral  indifference  or  composure. 
But  still  his  sleep  goes  from  him,  and  he 
bethinks  him  of  measures  for  wooing  it 
back.  When  he  has  been  similarly 
situated  before,  he  has  perhaps  had  re- 
course to  the  fascinations  of  the  world ; 
he  has  summoned  pleasure  with  her 
lyre,  and  syren  strains  have  soothed  him 
into  quiet.  Shall  he  take  the  same  course 
now'(  It  would  be  natural  that  he  should; 
but  he  feels  a  sort  of  disposition  to  try 
another  mode  ;  it  is  secretly  suggested  to 
him  that  the  book  of  the  record  of  the 
chronicles  might  give  him  some  repose, 
that  the  Bible  might  hush  his  agitation, 
were  it  read  to  him  by  those  whose  office 
it  is  to  press  home  its  truths.  And  thus 
is  he  literally  situated  as  was  the  Persian 
king  on  that  eventful  night,  when  the 
fate  of  the  Jews,  and  of  the  world,  seemed 
to  hang  upon  a  thread.  He  is  acted  on 
as  was  the  king;  and  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  his  resisting  as  the  king  might 
have  resisted.  He  may  say  to  himself, 
"  The  Bible  is  a  dull  book,  preachers 
are  melancholy  persons  ;  I  will  try  some- 
thing more  likely  to  dissipate  my  fears, 


.  and  restore  my  composure  :  give  me  the 
romance,  or  the  comedy,  rather  than  the 
book  of  the  chronicles ;  give  me  my 
jovial  companions,  rather  than  the 
ministers  of  religion."  Ahasuerus  might 
have  done  this,  and  thereby  would  he 
have  resisted  promptings  which  were 
not  of  his  own  mind,  though  they  gave 
no  note  of  supernatural  origin,  and  have 
lost  the  opportunity  of  freeing  his  king- 
dom from  a  great  impending  calamity. 
And  the  sinner  may  do  this  :  he  may 
withstand  a  suggestion,  which  seems 
only  to  spring  from  a  disturbed  mind, 
though  in  truth  to  be  traced  to  the  Spirit 
of  God;  and  thus  may  he  throw  away  a 
golden  opportunity  of  learning  how  to 
flee*from  everlasting  wrath. 

The  special  thing  forced  on  the  con- 
science of  Ahasuerus  through  the  book 
of  the  chronicles,  was,  that  there  was 
one  who  had  done  him  great  service  in 
saving  him  from  death,  and  whom  he 
had  hitherto  requited  with  neglect.  And 
it  is  the  very  same  thing  which  might  be 
forced  on  the  conscience  of  the  sinner 
through  the  reading  or  hearing  of  the 
Bible.  There  is  one  who  has  done  for 
him  what  thought  cannot  measure,  ran- 
soming him,  by  "  the  death  of  the  cross," 
from  everlasting  pains ;  but  he  has  hith- 
erto refused  to  acknowledge  this  Savior, 
and  has  given  him,  in  return,  only  hatred 
or  contempt.  So  accurately  is  a  case  of 
most  common  occurrence,  that  of  the 
unconverted  man  moved  by  God's  Spirit 
to  give  heed  to  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
portrayed  in  that  of  the  Persian  king, 
prompted,  in  his  restlessness,  to  hear 
the  chronicles  of  the  empire.  And  what 
we  would  again  and  again  impress  upon 
you  is,  that  you  are  not  to  think  of  re- 
cognizing the  operations  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  by  any  supernatural  tokens,  as 
though,  whensoever  that  agent  is  at  work 
in  your  breasts,  you  must  be  aware  of 
his  presence,  and  able  to  distinguish  his 
movements  from  those  of  the  conscience 
and  the  will.  The  secret  uneasiness, 
the.  impulse  to  prayer,  the  sense  of 
something  wrong,  the  disposition  to 
hear  the  word  of  God — these  may  not 
startle  you  by  their  strangeness ;  these 
may  seem  to  you  quite  natural,  as  na- 
turally produced  as  suggestions  of  an 
opposite  character — but  know  ye  of  a 
truth,  that  these  are  what  the  Holy 
Ghost  causes;  that  these  may  perhaps 
be  all  which  the  Holy  Ghost  will  cause ; 


60 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


and.  therefore,  that  if  ye  will  not  yield 
to  these,  and  will  not  act  on  these,  there 
is  a  fearful  probability  of  your  being 
forsaken  of  God,  and  left  to  your  own 
devices.  Wail  not  for  miracles — God's 
ordinary  workings  are  through  very  sim- 
ple means.  We  do  not  read  of  any  thun- 
derclap which  awakened  Ahasuerus;  he 
was  restless,  but  perhaps  could  give  no 
account  of  his  restlessness.  If  he  had 
been  asked,  lie  would  probably  have  men- 
tioned the  heat  of  the  weather,  or  over- 
excitement,  or  something  of  which  he 
had  eaten.  But,  all  the  while,  God  was 
in  that  sleeplessness,  for  which  so  many 
common  causes  might  have  been  as- 
And  there  must  be  those  of 
already  know,  or  who  will 
know,  something  of  a  moral  uneasiness 
which  might  admit  of  various  explana- 
tions.    There  has  been  no  thunderclap 


6igneci. 

you    who 


— yet  the  man  cannot  sleep  ;  and  he 
will  perhaps  account  for  it  from  some 
loss  in  his  family,  or  some  disappoint- 
ment in  trade,  or  some  deficiency  in 
health.  But  God  is  in  that  uneasiness, 
that  disquietude,  which  shows  an  inabil- 
ity to  settle  down  in  present  things,  and 
a  secret  craving  for  higher  and  better. 
Well  then — whensoever  such  a  season 
shall  visit  any  amongst  you,  let  them 
be  specially  heedful  of  what  may  be 
suggested  to  their  minds  ;  they  are  not 
disturbed  for  nothing,  but  that  they  may 
be  prompted  and  urged  towards  religion 
— no  music,  no  revelry,  no  blandish- 
ments :  let  the  records  of  the  chronicles 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be  searched, 
and  they  shall  learn  how  the  snare  may 
be  broken,  and  beautiful  peace  be  per- 
manently secured. 


SERMON   VII 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


«  And  David  lonsred,  and  said,  Oh.  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  which  is  by 
the  (rate  !  And  the  three  mighty  men  brake  through  the  host  of  the  Philistines,  and  drew  water  out  of  the  well  of 
Bethlehem,  that  was  by  the  gate,  and  took  it,  and  brought  it  to  David  :  nevertheless  he  would  not  drink  thereof, 
but  poured  it  out  unto  the  Lord.  And  he  said,  Be  it  far  from  me.  O  Lord,  that  I  should  do  this  :  is  not  this  the 
blood  of  the  men  that  weut  m  jeopardy  of  their  lives?  therefore  he  would  uot  drink  of  it."— 2 Sam.  xxm.  15, 16,  17. 


We  are  not  to  regard  the  scriptural 
histories  as  mere  registers  of  facts,  such 
as  are  commonly  the  histories  of  eminent 
men  :  they  are  rather  selections  of  facts, 
suitableness  for  purposes  of  instruction 
having  regulated  the  choice.  In  human 
biography,  you  may  say  of  much  that  is 
recorded,  that  it  is  inserted  only  because 
it  happened,  and  because,  therefore,  its 
omission  would  have  destroyed  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  narrative.  But  we  do  not 
suppose  that  the  same  may  be  said  of 
scriptural  biography  ;  a  fact  is  not  re- 
corded merely  because  it  occurred,  as 


j  though  the  object  were  to  give  the  ful- 
life  of  some  distinguished  individual;  a 
fact  is  rather  chosen  for  relation,  out  of 

:  many  which  are  omitted,  because  ex- 
hibiting some  point,  whether  in   human 

:  conduct  or  the  divine  dealings,  on  which 

lit  is  important  that  attention  be  turned. 
Occasionally,    indeed,     and     perhaps 

j  more  frequently  than  is  commonly 
thought,    it   is    because    the   fact  has  a 

;  typical  character  that  it  is  selected  for 
insertion  :  it  prefigures,  or  symbolically 

j  represents,  something  connected  with 
the  scheme  of  redemption,  and  on  this 


THE  WELL   OF  BETHLEHEM. 


61 


account  lias  found  place  in  the  sacred 
volume.  Neither  is  it  unusual  for  the 
recorded  fact  to  answer  to  both  those 
descriptions;  being  instructive  in  itself, 
and  serving  also  as  an  emblem  of  truths 
that  were  then  taught  only  by  shadows 
and  iypes.  And  whether,  in  any  given 
instance,  it  be  that  the  thing  narrated  is 
instructive  in  itself,  or  significative  of 
what  God  had  yet  but  partially  disclosed  ; 
or  whether  it  may  lay  claim  to  both 
characters ;  we  ought,  at  least,  to  be 
careful  that  we  content  not  ourselves 
with  apprehending  the  facts,  but  study 
diligently  what  lessons  they  may  convey, 
and  what  types  they  may  contain. 

We  make  these  general  remarks  from 
a  fear  that,  in  regard  especially  of  the 
Old  Testament  narratives,  there  is  a 
habit  with  many  christians  of  reading 
scriptural  histories  as  registers  of  facts, 
rather  than  as  collections  of  lessons. 
The  interesting  character  of  the  narra- 
tives themselves  is  often  likely  to  induce 
or  strengthen  this  habit;  the  mind  be- 
comes so  engaged  with  the  story,  that 
the  instruction  is  disregarded,  or  the 
figure  overlooked.  There  are  others 
besides  children  who  can  be  pleased 
with  the  fable,  and  never  think  of  the 
moral.  And  if  we  fail  to  search  the  scrip- 
tural narratives  for  lessons  and  types,  it 
is  evident  that  we  shall  practically  take 
away  from  great  part  of  the  Bible  its 
distinctive  character  as  a  record  of  spi- 
ritual truth  ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand, 
by  always  looking  for  what  always  exists 
— material  of  instruction — we  may  give 
histories  the  nature  of  homilies,  and  find 
the  events  in  an  individual's  life  pro- 
phetic of  things  in  which  the  whole  world 
has  interest. 

We  hope  to  show  you,  as  we  proceed 
with  our  discourse,  that  the  narrative 
which  we  have  now  selected  from  the 
Old  Testament,  forms  no  exception  to 
the  rule,  but  rather  signally  illustrates 
its  truth.  It  is  exactly  one  of  those  nar- 
ratives which  are  likely  to  be  read  and 
admired  for  the  beauty  of  the  facts,  ra- 
ther than  studied  for  the  worth  of  the 
lessons.  It  lays  immediate  and  strong 
hold  on  the  imagination,  having  about  it 
that  air  of  chivalry,  we  might  almost  say 
romance,  which  ordinarily  so  captivates 
and  dazzles  the  fancy.  You  can  hardly 
read  it  and  not  have  before  you  all  the 
scenery  of  the  tented  field,  with  the  mail- 
ed champions  and  the  floating  banners. 


The  royal  warrior,  David,  is  exhausted 
with  the  fight;  he  has  been  in  the  thick 
of  the  struggle  with  the  Philistines,  and 
is  now  faint  with  thirst.  In  tins  his 
weariness  and  languor,  he  is  heard  to 
breath  a  passionate  wish  for  water  from 
the  well  of  Bethlehem,  between  which 
and  himself  lay  the  Philistines,  so  that  the 
well  could  be  reached  only  by  breaking 
through  their  line.  But  amongst  his  fol- 
lowers were  men  as  attached  as  intrepid; 
with  hearts  devoted  to  their  chieftain, 
and  hand  prepared  to  attempt  even  im- 
possibilities at  his  bidding.  Three  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  these  followers 
heard  the  wish  which  David  expressed. 
There  was  no  command  given  :  but  with 
them  a  wish  had  the  force  of  a  command  ; 
and  pausing  not  to  count  the  peril,  they 
rushed  against  the  foe,  resolved  to  carve 
themselves  a  passage.  It  was  like  rush- 
ing on  destruction — what  will  their  cour- 
age and  strength  avajl  against  a  multi- 
tude!  they  will  be  borne  down  in  the 
unequal  struggle  ;  and  even  if  they  reach 
the  well  their  retreat  will  be  cut  off,  and 
they  must  perish  in  the  effort  to  return. 
And  yet — so  did  the  Almighty  favor 
the  bold  enterprise — they  succeeded  in 
breaking  through  the  host :  you  may 
trace  their  course  by  the  stir,  the  tumult, 
and  the  crash  ;  the  enemy  falls  in  heaps 
before  them  ;  now  they  are  by  the  side 
of  the  cold  flowing  fountain  ;  they  stay 
not  to  quench  their  own  thirst  :  they  dip, 
it  may  be  a  helmet  in  the  waters,  and 
hasten,  with  that  warrior's  cup  to  attempt 
a  second  time  the  passage.  Perhaps  the 
Philistines  scarcely  offer  fresh  resistance ; 
these  three  men  may  have  seemed  to  them 
more  than  mortal ;  they  may  have  divided 
at  their  approach,  and  allowed  them  to 
return  unopposed  to  the  army  of  Israel. 
And  David  must  have  been  aware  of 
this  desperate  sally ;  he  must  have  known 
that  the  choicest  of  his  warriors  had 
thrown  themselves,  to  all  appearance,  on 
certain  death,  in  hopes  of  gratifying  his 
wish  ;  and  deep  must  have  been  his  anx- 
ieties, and  fervent  his  prayers,  for  those 
whom  his  inconsiderateness  had  placed 
in  such  peril.  But  the  shout  of  his  troops 
tells  him  that  his  brave  captains  are  safe  ; 
they  approach,  stained  with  the  blood  of 
the  Philistines,  and  perhaps  with  their 
own  :  they  bow  before  their  king,  pre- 
sent the  sparkling  draught,  and  ask  no 
reward  but  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him 
refreshed.     And  David  holds  the  helmet 


62 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


in  his  hands,  bttt  raises  it  not  to  his  lips  : 

tin-  thirst  consumes  him,  for  it  has  been 

,,!    through   the  feverish   dread 

bold  men  would  perish ;  but  the 

water,    frfcsh   and    pure   though    it   was, 

to  him  like  the  blood  ofthose  who 
had  jeopardied  their  lives  ,•  he  felt  com- 
punction at  having  rashly  given  utterance 
to  b  wish  which  bad  produced  so  dating  a 
deed  ;  and  he  will  punish  himself  for  the 
fault ;  lie  refuses  t..  drink,  and  pours  the 
water  on  the  mound  as  a  libation  to  the 
Lord. 

What  a  picture  !  Every  one  is  fami- 
liar with  the  story  of  our  own  warrior, 
who,  mortally  wounded,  and  parched  with 
the  death-thirst,  received  a  cup  of  water, 
b  irving,  as  he  raised  it  to  his  lips, 

the  eye  of  a  dying  soldier  rest  wistfully 
upon  it,  handed  it.  to  him  and  bade  him 
drink  it.  as  needing  it  yet  more  than  him- 
self But  we  know  not  whether  the  bis- 
ters Inline  us  do  not  present  a  still  finer 
subject  for  the  painter.  It  does  not  seem 
as  though  David  had  to  choose  between 
Quenching  his  own  thirst  and  that  of 
There  may  have  been  no  gasp- 
ing warrior  at  his  feet  to  move  sympathy 

_  lassy  eye  and  the  clotted  lip.  It 
was  simply  at  the  suggestion  of  con- 
science that  he  put  from  him  the  longed- 
for  draught  ;  and  there  was  all  the  more 
ofgi  eatness,  because  there  was  apparent- 
ly so  little  to  prompl   the  self-denial. 

Bui  we  need  not  take  pains  to  give  in- 
terest and  coloring  to  the  narrative.  The 
i  we  have   hinted,,  is  all  the  other 

way — that  you  may  be  so  attracted  by 
the  chivalrous  circumstances,  by  the  dis- 
played bravery  and  magnanimity,  as  to 
think  nothing  of  homely  and  personal 
le--o:is  with  which  the  registered  inci- 
dents are  assuredly  fraught.  We  have, 
the i  efore,  now  to  engage  you  exclusively 
\  'in>.     We  wish  you  to  ob- 

serve what  there  may  have  been  to  blame, 
and  what  to  approve,  in  the  conduct  of 
David;  and  to  note,  with  like  attention, 
tie  conduct  of  Ins  servants.  This  suffi- 
defines  what  we   have  to  attempt 

through  the  remainder  of  our  discourse ; 

take,  first,  the  conduct  of  the  three 

warriors,  and.  secpndly,  that  of  David, 

what,  in   each   case,  there 

mi',   be  whether  to  condemn  or  to  copy. 

the  three  warriors  must  be  sur- 
veyed as  servants  of  David',  men  engaged 
to  ..  ley  his  command-;,  and  execute  his 
will  to  the  utmost  of  their  power.     And 


their  conduct  then  appears  very  admira- 
ble, as  far  removed  as  can  well  be  ima- 
gined from  that  calculating  and  niggard- 
ly obedience,  which  betrays  a  disposition 
to  do  the  least  possible,  to  render  as  lit- 
tle to  a  master  as  that  master  can  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  accept.  We  need  not  touch 
the  question  as  to  whether  these  warriors 
were  justified  in  running  such  a  risk, 
whether  it  were  unlawful,  or  not,  to  make 
the  attempt  to  which  they  were  prompted 
by  the  expressed  wish  of  David.  It  may 
have  been  unlawful ;  there  must  have 
been  a  point  at  which  obedience  to  God 
would  have  forbidden  obedience  to  their 
king;  but  we  have  no  means  for  accu- 
rately judging  whether  this  point  had  been 
reached  in  the  case  now  before  us.  We 
may,  therefore,  waive  all  reference  to  the 
right  or  the  wrong,  of  the  resolve  to  cut 
a  path  to  the  waters  of  Bethlehem  ;  we 
have  simply  to  do  with  the  power  which 
a  mere  wish  of  David  had  over  his  ser- 
vants, for  we  may  hence  derive  a  lesson 
for. all  servants,  whether  of  God  or  of  man. 
You  are  to  observe  that  David  issued 
no  command.  He  might  have  summon- 
ed the  bravest  of  his  battalions,  and  bid- 
den them  attempt  the  forcing  a  passage 
to  the  well  ;  but  nothing  of  the  kind  was 
done  :  he  simply  uttered  a  wish,  without, 
perhaps,  thinking  that  he  should  be  over- 
heard, and  certainly  without  designing 
that  it  should  be  interpreted  as  a  com- 
mand. But  the  wish  was  sufficient  for 
hold  and  true-hearted  men,  and  they  in- 
stantly faced  death  to  attempt  its  gratifi- 
cation. And  we  say  of  these  servants, 
thus  yielding  as  ready  an  obedience  to 
an  overheard  wish  as  could  have  been 
rendered  to  the  most  positive  order,  that 
they  rebuke  many  of  ourselves,  who, 
whether  it  be  their  Creator,  or  their  fel- 
low-creatures, by  whom  they  are  employ- 
ed, seem  only  axious  to  reduce  their  ser- 
vice to  the  smallest  possible  amount. 
There  is  an  example  set  by  these  war- 
riors to  every  man  who  is  called  on  for 
obedience,  which  fits  the  history  before 
us  to  be  inscribed  on  our  kitchens,  our 
shops,  and  our  churches.  The  example 
lies  in  their  not  having  waited  for  a  com- 
mand, but  acted  on  a  wish  ;  and  there  is 
no  man  to  whom  the  term  servant  ap- 
plies— and  it  applies  to  every  man,  at 
least  with  reference  to  God — who  would 
not  do  well  to  ponder  the  example,  and 
consider  whether  he  be  not  yet  far  below 
such  a  model. 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


63 


If  you  take  the  case  of  servants,  as 
the  term  is  commonly  applied,  is  not  their 
service,  for  the  most  part,  a  sort  of  labpr 
to  do  no  more  than  they  can  help,  an  en- 
deavor to  earn  their  wages  with  as  little 
outlay  of  toil  as  their  employers  will  con- 
sent to  remunerate  1  Servants,  even 
servants  "professing  godliness,"  seem  to 
have  practically  but  little  remembrance 
of  the  precept  of  St.  Paul,  "not  with 
eye-service  as  men-pleasers."  It  is  al- 
most all  "eye-service,"  and  rla<>s  in  pro- 
portion as  inspection  is  withdrawn.  It 
is  a  rare  thing  to  find  a  servant  who  will  dil- 
igently obey  your  commands  ;  but  where 
shall  we  look  for  one  who  will  carefully 
consult  your  wishes'?  And  we  do  not 
know  that  a  more  annoying  argument  is 
to  be  found  against  the  advantageousness 
of  a  diffused  christian  education,  than  is 
apparently  furnished  by  a  fact  which  it 
is  not  easy  to  gainsay,  that,  in  place  of 
an  improved  race  of  servants  having  re- 
sulted from  an  improved  system  of  gen- 
eral instruction,  we  have  less  diligent, 
less  obliging,  and  less  trustworthy  domes- 
tics. We  are  sure  as  to  the  unsoundness 
of  the  argument,  because  we  are  sure, 
on  unassailable  principles,  that  the  know- 
ledge of  God  in  Christ  will  make  men, 
from  the  prince  to  the  peasant,  fitter  for 
whatsoever  duties  appertain  to  their  sta- 
tion. But,  nevertheless,  when  the  appeal 
is  to  results,  to  the  testimony  of  experi- 
ence, not  of  theory,  it  does  involve  the 
advocate  of  national  education  in  no  or- 
dinary difficulty,  that  the  opponent  can 
enter  our  households  and  ask,  with  much 
semblance  of  truth,  what,  comparatively, 
has  become  of  those  attached,  steadfast, 
and  conscientious  servants,  who  had  no 
interest  separate  from  their  master's,  and 
no  wish  but  that  of  executing  his  1  And 
servants  who  have  enjoyed  all  the  su- 
perior advantages  of  modern  days,  and 
yet  are  palpably  inferior  to  the  servants 
of  former — restless,  rude,  dishonest — 
little  know  how  much  they  may  contri- 
bute towards  such  disgust  amongst  the 
rich  at  the  instruction  of  the  poor,  as  will 
prompt  an  endeavor  to  re-establish  the 
ignorance  which  consisted  with  some- 
thing praiseworthy,  as  preferable  to  the 
knowledge  which  threatens  to  issue  in 
confusion. 

Neither  is  it  only  to  servants,  in  the 
common  sense  of  the  word  that  the  ex- 
ample before  us  applies.  The  same 
holds  good  generally  of  the  employed, 


whatever  the  nature  of  the  employment. 
It  ought  to  be  the  ruling  principle  with 
him  who  serves  another  in  any  capacity, 
to  serve  him  upon  principle,  to  identify 
himself  with  his  employer,  and  to  have 
the  same  eye  to  his  interests  as  though 
they  were  his  own.  If  a  man  buy  my 
time,  and  I  do  not  devote  to  him  that 
time,  there  is  jobbery  as  actual  as  though 
he  had  bought  my  merchandize  and  I 
then  sold  it  to  another.  If  he  pay  me 
for  my  labor,  and  I  in  any  measure  with- 
hold it,  then,  up  to  that  measure,  there 
is  as  palpable  fraud  as  if  he  bargained 
for  my  goods  and  I  used  a  false  balance. 
The  indolent  clerk,  the  idle  shopman, 
the  careless  agent — I  see  no  moral  differ- 
ence between  these  and  the  grossly  dis- 
honest who  tamper  with  the  property  of 
their  employers.  And  if  a  general  rule 
be  required  for  the  guidance  of  those 
who  are  in  any  kind  of  service,  we  fetch 
it  from  the  example  of  David's  three 
captains,  with  whom  a  wish  had  all  the 
force  of  a  command.  It  is  not  that  this 
rule  will  furnish  specific  direction  in 
each  specific  case  ;  but  that  he,  who  acts 
up  to  it,  will  be  keeping  in  exercise  the 
motives  and  dispositions  which  will  en- 
sure the  right  course  under  all  possible 
circumstances.  He  who  consults  wishes 
as  wei'i  as  commands,  or  witli  whom  a 
known  wish  is  as  binding  as  an  express 
command,  will  necessarily  feel  at  all 
times  under  the  eye  of  his  employer;  or 
rather,  will  know  no  difference  when 
that  eye  is  upon  him  and  when  turned 
away.  His  whole  aim  will  be  to  act  for 
the  employer  as  the  employer  would  act 
for  himself;  and  it  is  evident  that  nothing 
can  be  added  to  such  a  description,  if 
you  wish  to  include  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, sincerity,  diligence,  and  faithful- 
ness. 

And  you  have  only  to  contrast,  in  your 
own  minds,  the  servant,  who  will  do  no- 
thing but  what  is  positively,  and,  in  so 
many  words,  commanded,  and  another 
wig)  watches  the  very  looks  of  his  mas- 
ter, that  he  may  read  his  wishes  and 
take  them  for  laws,  to  assure  yourselves 
that  the  feature  of  good  service  which 
we  derive  from  the  conduct  of  the  cap- 
tains of  David  rather  gives  the  whole 
character  than  a  solitary  mark.  Yea, 
consider  men  in  general  as  the  servants 
of  God — of  God  who  expressly  says, 
"  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye,"  as 
though  a  look  were  to  suffice  :   and  this 


64 


THE  WELL   OF  BETHLEHEM. 


feature  will  distinguish  the  true  and  the 
earnest  from  the  hypocritical  and  the 
lukewarm.  Lei  us  ask  ourselves  wheth- 
er, unhappily,  it  l>e  hot  the  too  common 
disposition  of  those  who  make  profession 
of*  godliness,  to  pare  down  as  much  as 
possible  tlir  service  required  at  their 
bands,  to  calculate  how  small  a  sacrifice, 
and  how  slight  an  endurance,  will  con- 
sist with  their  being  reckoned  amongst 
the  members  of  Christ .'  In  place  of  a 
generous  zeal  to  give  up  everything  for 
God,  and  such  a  fear  of  offending  him 
as  would  make  them  avoid  what  is  in- 
different lest  they  indulge  in  what  is 
wrong,  men  are  apt  to  compute  how  far 
they  may  venture  in  compliance  with 
the  world,  how  near  they  may  go  to  the 
forbidden  thing,  and  yet  not  lose  the 
distinctive  character  of  the  people  of 
Christ.  It  should  not  content  the  chris- 
tian that  such  or  such  an  indulgence  is 
not  prohibited  by  the  letter  of  the  law; 
he  should  search  whether  it  be  not  pro- 
hibited by  the  spirit.  In  cases  where 
there  really  may  be  a  doubt  as  to  the 
lawfulness,  he  should  determine  for  the 
course  which  is  the  most  likely  to  be 
right  ;  and,  if  the  scales  hang  even,  for 
that  to  which  he  has  the  less  inclination. 
This  would  be  true  christian  obedience, 
an  obedience  of  which  love  is  the  law. 
God  dealeth  with  us  as  with  children 
rather  than  servants — not  laying  down 
an  express  precept  for  every  possible 
case,  but  supposing  in  us  a  principle 
which  will  always  lead  to  our  consider- 
ing what  will  be  pleasing  to  himself,  and 
to  our  taking  his  pleasure  as  our  rule. 
And  just  as  the  affectionate  child  will 
watch  the  countenance  of  the  parent, 
obeying  what  he  reads  there  as  well  as 
what  he  hears  from  the  lip,  so  should 
.  Mian  search  for  the  least  indica- 
tion of  I  rod's  u  ill  and  give  it  all  the  force 
of  a  positive  statute. 

1  hit  can  we  sav  that  we  do  this?  Can 
we  deny,  that,  for  the  most  part,  we 
rather  compute  how  little  Grod  will  ts*;e 
than  how  much  we  can  give;  what  may 
be  Withheld,  than  what  surrendered  [ 
That  a  thing  is  doubtfi  1,  A>n^  not  make 
us  shun  it  as  though  it  were  wrong:  we 
are  more  disposed,  under  the  plea  of  its 
Msing  dubious,  to  adopt  it  as  right.  It 
is  not  sufficient  Torus,  that  Cod  is  likely 
to  be  better  pleased  if  we  abstain  than 
if  we  indulge  :  we  urge  the  want  of  ex- 
press command,  and  are  secretly  gratified 


that  it  does  not  exist.  Alas,  then,  how 
are  we  reproved  by  the  warriors  of 
David  I  What  christians  should  we  be, 
if,  with  them,  a  wish  were  law  enough 
to  arm  us  against  danger  and  death! 
Go  in  thought  to  the  field  of  battle,  where 
Israel  is  ranged  against  the  Philistine, 
when  you  may  feel  inclined  to  evade  a 
painful  duty  under  the  plea  of  its  not 
being  distinctly  enjoined.  When  you 
would  excuse  yourselves  from  making 
a  sacrifice,  foregoing  an  indulgence,  or 
attempting  a  difficulty,  by  urging,  that 
though  it  might  be  acceptable  to  God, 
at  least  he  has  not  made  it  indispensable, 
observe  what  the  servants  of  an  earthly 
kimj  could  do  in  the  absence  of  command, 
and  let  the  servants  of  a  heavenly  blush 
to  do  less.  Who  are  these  that  rush 
upon  the  enemy,  as  though  they  knew 
nothing  of  danger  and  bore  a  charm 
against  death  1  We  see  three  warriors 
press  along  the  plain  ;  their  whole  de- 
meanoris  that  of  those  charged  with  some 
fearful  commission  ;  the  fate  of  a  kingdom 
has  surely  been  given  into  their  keeping ; 
they  are  urging  forwards  with  the  des- 
perateness  of  men  bidden,  on  some  au- 
thority which  they  dare  not  resist,  to 
attempt  an  enterprise  involving  the  safety 
of  thousands.  Not  so:  these  warriors 
might  have  remained  inactive  and  yet 
been  guilty  of  no  positive  disobedience 
to  their  leader.  They  have  received  no 
directions  obliging  them  to  draw  the 
sword  and  hew  a  passage.  They  were 
just  in  the  position  in  which  you  your- 
selves often  are,  with  no  command  from 
a  master,  but  with  some  intimation  of  a 
wish.  And  they  are  but  setting  an  ex- 
ample to  the  warriors  of  Christ — an  ex- 
ample as  to  the  taking  every  indication 
of  the  wish,  as  an  expression  of  the  will 
of  our  Lord,  seeing  that  they  are  cutting 
!  their  way  through  the  hosts  of  the  Phi- 
!  listine,  not  because  they  have  heard 
David  exclaim,  "  Unsheath  the  sword, 
and  dare  the  foe;"  but  only  because 
they  have  heard  him  say,  "Oh  that  one 
would  give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the 
well  of  Bethlehem." 

But  let  us  now  pass  from  the  conduct 
of  the  servants  to  that  of  David,  in  which 
there  is  matter,  as  it  would  seem,  for 
blame  as  well  as  praise.  You  may  be 
sure,  that,  if  we  have  spoken  with  some- 
thing like  severity  of  servants,  it  has  not 
been  in  forgetfulness  of  how  much,  after 
all,  the  goodness  of  the  servant  depends 


THE  WELT,   OF  BETHLEHEM. 


6fi 


upon  the  master.  We  never  hear  an 
instance  of  a  domestic  growing  old  in 
one  family,  without  feeling  that  it  tells 
well  for  both  sides  ;  if  a  good  master 
will  not  keep  a  bad  servant  long,  neither 
will  a  bad  master  long  keep  a  good.  It 
must,  in  truth,  be  through  a  mutual  sys- 
tem of  forbearance  and  accommodation, 
that  anything  like  harmony  is  maintained 
in  the  several  relations  of  life:  to  ex- 
pect always  to  prescribe,  and  never  to 
concede,  shows  an  ignorance  of  human 
character  and  condition,  which  is  sure 
to  be  visited  with  opposition  and  thwart- 
ing. They  who  look  to  be  obeyed 
cheerfully,  must  take  heed  that  they 
command  judiciously;  the  greater  the 
known  readiness  to  comply  with  their 
wishes,  the  greater  should  be  the  caution 
that  those  wishes  be  always  reasonable 
and  just. 

And  herein  was  David  much  in  fault; 
for,  knowing  the  devotedness  of  his  fol- 
lowers, their  attachment  to  his  person, 
and  their  uncalculating  bravery  in  his 
cause,  he  should  have  been  all  the  more 
careful  to  give  utterance  to  neither  a 
command  nor  a  wish  which  he  had  not 
well  weighed,  or  with  which  he  did  not 
desire  a  literal  compliance.  It  was  not 
fitting  in  a  man,  who  had  learnt,  by  ex- 
perience, that  the  warm  hearts  about 
him  would  obey  his  very  look,  to  express 
a  rash  longing — and  such,  at  least,  was 
that  for  water  from  Bethlehem.  We  have 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  was  no 
water  in  the  camp,  or  that  none  could 
have  been  procured  from  more  accessible 
springs.  Perhaps  the  well  of  Bethlehem 
was  celebrated  for  its  water;  or  perhaps 
David,  as  having  been  born  and  brought 
up  in  Bethlehem,  had  a  special  affec- 
tion for  the  fountain  of  which  he  had 
drunk  in  his  youth.  This  longing  for  the 
well  of  Bethlehem  in  an  hour  of  danger 
and  strife,  may  have  been  one  of  those 
instances  of  the  travelling  back  of  the 
mind  to  the  days  and  scenes  of  boyhood, 
which  are  so  common  and  so  touching 
amid  the  woes  and  struggles  of  more 
advanced  life  ;  the  fields  where  we  once 
played  seeming  to  mock  us  by  their 
greenness,  and  the  well-remembered 
waters  and  trees  sparkling  and  waving 
before  the  eye,  as  though  to  reproach 
our  having  abandoned  what  was  so 
peaceful  and  pure  for  the  whirl  and  din 
of  the  world.  It  may  have  been  thus 
with  David:  his  circumstances  were 
Vol.  II. 


now  harassing  and  perplexed,  and,  as 
he  felt  his  difficulties  and  perils,  the 
imagery  of  his  youth  may  have  come 
thronging  before  him — himself  a  shep- 
herd-boy, and  his  flock  grazing  on  the 
bank  of  a  quiet  glassy  stream  ;  and  it 
may  have  been  but  an  expression  of 
something  like  regret  that  days  were  so 
changed,  when  he  exclaimed,  "Oh  that 
one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water 
of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  which  is  by 
the  gate." 

But,  whatever  were  the  uppermost 
feeling  in  the  mind  of  David,  we  may 
fall  back  upon  our  assertion,  that,  cir- 
cumstanced as  he  was,  it  ought  not  to 
have  been  expressed.  Indeed,  even  had 
he  not  had  such  reason  to  know  that 
those  around  him  were  on  the  watch  for 
the  intimation  of  his  wishes,  he  would 
not  have  been  warranted  in  giving  words 
to  a  desire,  that  others  would  risk  life 
just  to  gratify  himself.  There  is  all  the 
difference  between  the  feeling  and  the 
expressing  a  desire  ;  we  are  not  neces- 
sarily answerable  for  the  former — we 
must  be  for  the  latter :  even  as  an  evil 
thought  may  be  darted  iuto  the  mind, 
we  cannot  tell  whence,  and  we  be  inno- 
cent notwithstanding;  but  the  thought 
cannot  be  embodied  in  speech  and  we 
not  be  guilty.  If  David's  wish  were 
harmless,  as  breathed  only  to  himself,  it 
was  not  so  as  declared  to  his  servants  : 
he  must  have  known  its  gratification  im- 
possible, except  at  the  risk  of  many 
lives.  Not  that  we  suppose  that  David 
entertained  any  thought  of  his  wish  being 
acted  upon  ;  in  all  likelihood  it  never 
crossed  his  mind  that  the  desperate  sally 
would  be  made.  But  it  is  precisely  in 
this  that  he  was  to  blame;  it  ought  to 
have  crossed  his  mind  :  he  would  not 
issue  a  command  which  he  did  not  mean 
to  be  obeyed;  neither,  circumstanced 
and  surrounded  as  he  was,  should  he 
have  hinted  a  wish,  if  he  did  not  design 
the  gratification  to  be  attempted. 

And  it  is  here  that  we  may  obtain 
some  general  rules  which  all  who  have 
authority  would  do  well  to  adopt.  You 
see  that,  in  proportion  as  you  are  faith- 
fully and  affectionately  served,  you  are 
bound  to  be  careful  how  you  issue  a 
command  or  breathe  a  desire.  Take 
it  as  the  perfection  of  a  servant,  to  be 
anxious  only  to  know,  that  he  may  do, 
his  master's  will ;  and  it  is  the  perfection 
of  a  master,  to  manifest  no  will  but  what 
9 


66 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


nig  servant  may  be  able,  and  with  good 
conscience,  to  perform.  There  cau  be 
no  tyranny  greater,  and  none  more  un- 
generous, than  that  winch,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  condition  or  attachment  of  a 
domestic,  imposes  duties  which  are  too 
severe,  of  tasks  which  are  unlawful.  I 
in  iv  feel  that  a  servant  is  either  so  de- 
pendent upon  me,  or  so  devoted  to  my 
wishes,  that  he  will  tell  a  lie  at  my  bid- 
ding, and  assure  the  visiter  that  I  am 
from  home  when  he  knows  me  in  the 
house.  Bui  what  is  to  be  said  of  my 
baseness,  my  cruelty,  in  prescribing  to  a 
fellow-creature  over  whom  I  have  some 
kind  of  power,  that  lie  should  do  what 
he  cannoi  do,  and  not  offend  the  God  of 
truth  !  1  may  not  actually  mean  him  to 
tell  a  lie  ;  I  may  suppose  that  there  is  a 
sort  of  conventional  understanding  in 
society  which  causes  a  certain  sense  to 
be  put  on  the  phrase  which  I  dictate  : 
but  it  is  too  much  to  expect  that  the 
fine-drawn  distinction  should  be  per- 
ceived by  the  servant;  his  feeling  must 
be  that  he  has  told  a  direct  falsehood  for 
my  sake  ;  and  it  is  hardly  reasonable  to 
require  that  he  should'  not,  at  other 
times,  tell  one  for  his  own. 

And  this  is  but  a  particular  case, 
which  may  be  taken  to  illustrate  the 
general  rule.  The  general  rule  is,  that, 
in  every  command,  in  every  wish,  there 
be  due  consideration  for  the  ability,  the 
comfort,  and  the  conscience  of  the  do- 
mestic.  No  longing  for  the  water  of 
Bethlehem,  if  it  cannot  be  had  but  by 
Strength  unduly  tasked,  time  so  engross- 
ed tiiat  none  remains  for  prayer,  or  prin- 
ciple so  disregarded  that  "man's  law 
supersedes  *  rod's. 

Neither  is  this  all  which  should  be 
gathered  or  inferred  from  the  circum- 
stances  under  review.  1'ou  see  how 
easily  what  was  never  meant  as  a  com- 
mand may  be  received  as  such,  where 
there  is  affectionate  watchfulness  amongst 
friends  and  attendants.  Then  what  care 
Bhould  there  he,  that  nothing  be  said  in 
joke  winch  may  be  taken  in  earnest, 
nothing  even  hinted  at  as  our  belief  or 
which  we  would  not  have  acted 
on  by  those  who  hear  the  words.  Jt.  is 
specially  to  children  that  this  remark 
applies;  for  they  may  be  supposed  to 
have  all  that  submissiv  euess  to  authority, 
and  that  willingness  to  oblige,  which 
distinguished  David's  warriors,  as  well 
as  that  inability  of  discriminating  a  cas- 


ual expression  from  an  actual  direction, 
which  seems  equally  to  have  belonged 
to  the  men,  who  felt  themselves  bidden 
to  attempt  the  passage  to  Bethlehem. 
The  child,  from  his  age,  can  know  little 
of  any  figures  of  speech,  and  will  com- 
monly adopt  the  literal  interpretation  ; 
thus,  what  was  never  meant  to  be  seri- 
ously understood  may  exert  all  the  force 
of  precept  or  instruction.  In  this  way 
may  indiscreet  conversation,  to  which 
they  who  carry  it  on  attach  no  impor- 
tance, and  which  they  never  dream  of 
any  one's  taking  as  expressing  their 
actual  thoughts  and  feelings,  be  received 
by  young  minds  with  all  the  reverence 
which  they  are  taught  to  render  unto 
truth.  Disciplined  to  respect  their 
superiors,  and,  therefore,  to  attach  credit 
to  their  words — instructed  to  obey  them 
implicitly,  and,  therefore,  to  consult 
their  very  wishes,  it  can  hardly  fail 
but  that  what  is  uttered  in  their  presence 
will  pass  for  true,  and  what  is  desired 
appear  worth  being  sought.  And  pro- 
bably children  often  imbibe  opinions, 
which  form  the  foundation  of  character, 
from  casual  expressions  dropped  in  their 
bearing,  and  which,  had  explanation 
been  asked,  they  would  have  found  to 
have  been  spoken  without  thought  and 
almost  without  meaning.  Who  shall 
tell  us  the  effect  of  a  joke  upon  sacred 
things,  the  levity  of  which  may  have 
been  pardoned  by  elder  persons  for  the 
sake  of  the  wit,  but  the  irreverence  of 
which  may  sink  deep  into  younger,  and 
work  a  half  persuasion  that  the  Bible, 
after  all,  is  not  that  awful  volume  with 
which  it  were  sacrilege  to  trifle  1  Who 
shall  tell  us  what  is  done  by  discourse 
on  the  advantageousness  of  wealth,  and 
by  hasty  wishes,  perhaps  thoughtlessly 
uttered,  for  larger  measure  of  earthly 
possessions  ]  The  seeds  of  covetous- 
ness  may  have  been  sown  in  the  young 
hearer,  when  the  speaker  himself  has 
been  indifferent  to  money  ;  and  the  child 
of  a  parent  who  is  actually  content  with 
a  little,  may  grow  up  with  a  passion  for 
j  much,  from  having  overheard  the  parent 
talk  as  though  he  desired  a  far  ampler 
fortune. 

V  ou  may  tell  us  that  we  assign  causes 
disproportionate  to  effects  :  as  well  tell 
us  that  the  oak  cannot  spring  from  the 
acorn.  Life  is  made  up  of  little  things; 
and  human  character,  traced  to  its  be- 
ginning, will  be  found  issuing  from  drops 


THE  WELL   OF  BETHLEHEM. 


67 


lather  than  from  fountains.  You  ought, 
therefore,  when  speaking  before  those 
whom  you  instruct  to  respect  and  obey 
you,  to  speak  on  the  supposition  that  all 
which  you  assert  will  be  received  as  true, 
all  for  which  you  wish  be  accounted  de- 
sirable. You  must  not  think  aloud,  if 
you  do  not  mean  your  thoughts  to  pass 
for  verities  or  have  the  weight  of  com- 
mands. If  such  a  rule  be  neglected,  you 
must  not  be  surprised  if  they  who  hear 
you  enter  upon  the  paths  which  you 
never  meant  them  to  tread,  and  after- 
wards plead  your  authority  in  excuse. 
There  may  again  occur  precisely  what 
occurred  with  David  and  his  servants. 
It  is  not  that  the  monarch  has  command- 
ed his  warriors  to  dare  death,  that  they 
may  fetch  him  water  from  a  favorite 
spring.  It  is  not  that  he  has  even  wished 
ihem  to  undertake  the  rash  and  perilous 
enterprise.  It  is  only  that,  without  re- 
flection or  thought,  he  gave  utterance  to 
something  that  was  passing  in  his  mind, 
and  that  those  about  him  overheard  the 
inconsiderate  expression.  And  do  you 
mark  that  young  person,  who  is  devoting 
himself  with  uncalculating  eagerness  to 
some  worldly  pursuit,  as  though  he  had 
been  trained  to  nothing  but  the  acquisition 
of  honor  or  wealth  ]  Is  it  that  the 
parent  literally  instructed  him  to  rush 
through  all  danger  that  he  might  but 
grasp  the  coveted  thing'?  Is  it  that  he 
was  told,  in  so  many  words,  to  give  en- 
ergy, and  talent,  and  time,  to  the  obtain- 
ing a  perishable  good,  so  that  he  can  urge 
the  precept  of  a  father,  whom  he  loved 
and  revered,  as  justifying  a  career  in 
which  the  object  is  worthless,  if  compar- 
ed with  the  risk  and  the  toil  7  Probably 
not  so.  The  parent  never  wished  him 
thus  to  squander  his  powers  ;  the  parent 
never  thought  that  he  would  ;  but  that 
pareiffc,  having  gained  his  affections  and 
secured  his  attention  to  his  commands 
and  his  wishes,  was  little  careful  as  to 
what  lie  let  fall  in  his  hearing;  he  was 
apt  to  say  what  he  did  not  mean,  to  give 
words  to  feelings  which  he  would  never 
have  breathed,  had  he  remembered  the 
possibility  of  their  being  received  as  gen- 
uine, or  interpreted  as  laudable  ;  in  short, 
like  David,  when  nothing  was  further 
from  his  wish  than  that  his  wish  should 
be  acted  on,  he  was  used  to  utter  excla- 
mations such  as  this,  "O  that  one  would 
give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well 
of  Bethlehem  which  is  by  the  gate." 


But  this  only  sets  before  you  what  ap- 
pears blame-worthy  in  the  conduct  of 
David  ;  we  have  yet  to  consider  what 
there  may  be  to  deserve  praise  or  imita- 
tion. And  this  is  to  be  sought  in  what 
he  did  when  his  followers  returned,  and 
placed  before  him  the  water  for  which 
he  had  inconsiderately  longed.  It  would 
not  have  been  strange,  or  unnatural,  had 
he  argued  that,  though  he  had  done 
wrong  in  expressing  the  wish,  it  could 
not  be  unlawful  to  use  the  means  of  grat- 
ifying that  wish  so  unexpectedly  provid- 
ed. He  might  have  said,  I  would  not  in- 
deed have  exposed  the  lives  of  my  brave 
soldiers,  in  order  to  obtain  this  refresh- 
ment ;  but  now  that,  unbidden,  and  from 
the  warmth  of  their  attachment,  they  have 
cut  their  way  to  the  well,  and  brought 
me  of  its  flowings,  I  may  surely  quench 
my  thirst,  and  thus  afford  them  the  best 
reward  for  their  zeal  in  my  service. 

But  David  argued  differently,  in  a 
manner  that  showed  more  of  high  prin- 
ciple, and  strong  fear  of  God.  He  felt 
that  there  was  a  contradiction,  in  owning 
an  action  wrong,  and  allowing  himself  to 
be  advantaged  by  that  action.  The  least 
which  he  could  do,  in  proof  of  his  con- 
sciousness of  error,  was  to  refuse  to  ap- 
propriate what  that  error  had  procured. 
He  must  punish  himself,  by  an  act  of 
self-denial,  for  a  want  of  self-command, 
and  show  that,  if  he  had  been  betrayed 
into  expressing  a  rash  wish,  he  had  at 
least  discovered,  and  repented  of,  the 
rashness.  And  therefore  he  would  not 
taste  the  coveted  draught,  but  made  it  a 
kind  of  offering  to  the  Lord,  pouring  it 
on  the  ground,  in  witness  that  he  had 
sinned,  and  that,  having  sinned,  he  need- 
ed an  expiatory  ablution. 

It  is  not  the  heroism  of  David,  in  act- 
ing thus,  which  we  propose  for  admira- 
tion and  imitation,  though  it  may  be,  as 
we  stated  in  an  earlier  part  of  our  dis- 
course, that  the  monarch,  parched  with 
thirst,  and  yet  refusing  to  touch  the  wa- 
ter which  sparkled  so  invitingly  before 
him,  would  form  as  fine  a  picture  as  hu- 
man story  can  give  of  forbearance  and 
greatness.  But  it  is  the  genuineness  of 
the  repentance  of  David  on  which  we 
would  insist,  the  sincerity  of  his  piety  as 
proved  by  his  refusal  to  derive  benefit 
from  his  sin.  We  think  that  herein  is 
he  specially  an  example  to  ourselves,  and 
that  the  cases  are  far  from  uncommon, 
in  which  there  is  such  similarity  of  cir- 


68 


THK  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


cumstance,  as  to  render  the  example  most 
direct  ami  appropriate. 

h  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  question- 
ed thai  a  preaeut  advantage  is  often 
ihe  immediate  result  of  what  is  wrong, 
so  that,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  sin 
produces  what  the  sinner  desires  to  ob- 
tain, [f  ii  were  not  bo,  if  the  conse- 
quences of  doing  wrong  were  never,  nay, 
if  they  were  not  Frequently,  profitable  to 
the  individual  who  .iocs  tin'  wrong  thing, 
we  hardly  know  where,  in  most  instances, 


temptation  won 


Id 


ii-  where  would  be 


the  exercise  of  virtue.  In  general  it  is 
■  between  the  present  and  the  fu- 
ture which  we  are  required  to  strike  :  the 
great  task  to  which  we  are  summoned, 
is  die  not  allowing  ourselves  to  be  over- 
borne by  immediate  results,  so  as  to 
keep  more  distant  out  of  sight,  but  the 
calculating  what  will  be  for  our  profit  on 
the  whole,  visible  things  and  invisible  be- 
ing alike  brought  into  account.  And,  of 
course,  whilst  such  is  our  condition,  or 
such  tiie  system  of  probation  beneath 
which  we  "live,  a  sort  of  temporary  re-  j 
ward  must  often  be  attainable  by  the  sin- 
ner :  there  must  be  something  of  advan- 
tage to  be  procured  through  want  of 
principle,  and  lost  through  rigid  con- 
scientiousness. Such  cases  will  often  oc- 
cur in  the  stir  and  jostle  of  a  mercantile 
community,  where  vast  interests  become 
so  involved,  and  immense  revenues  so  de- 
pend on  the  turn  of  a  single  speculation, 
that  the  least  underhand  dealing  might  at 
times  fill  a  man's  coffers,  and  almost  a 
dishonest  thought  transform  him  from  the 
poor  to  the  wealthy. 

And  we  are  now  concerned  with  the 
question,  as  to  what  is  binding  on  a  man, 
if,  with  the  advantages,  procured  by  a 
fault,  lying  at  his  disposal,  the  water  from 
the  well  of  Bethlehem  sparkling  before 
him,  he  become  convinced  of  his  fault, 
aware  that  he  has  done  wrong,  or  not 
acted  with  the  honor  and  integrity  which 
he  was  bound  to  have  maintained.  Is  he 
to  drink  of  the  water,  to  enjoy  the  ad- 
vantages ]  Ah,  it  may  be  often  a  hard 
question:  but  we  do  not  see  how  there 
can  be  any  true  penitence,  where  what 
has  been  wrongfully  obtained  is  kept  and 
used,  as  though  it  had  been  the  produce 
of  equitable  dealing.  If  a  man  have 
grown  rich  by  dishonesty,  he  ought,  we 
believe,  to  become  poor  through  repen- 
tance. We  cannot  think  it  enough,  if 
an  individual,   who    has    not    made    his 


money  in  the  most  clean-handed  way, 
and  who  feels  compunction  in  conse- 
quence, give  large  sums  in  charity,  as  an 
atonement,  or  reparation  for  his  fault. 
[f  he  only  give  what  he  can  conveniently 
spare,  or  even  if  his  charities  somewhat 
press  on  his  resources,  he  certainly  does 
nothing  but  what,  on  high  christian  prin- 
ciple, he  would  be  bound  equally  to  do, 
had  his  property  accumulated  in  the  most 
honorable  modes.  And  it  cannot  be 
sufficient  to  make  that  use  of  money  un- 
justly acquired,  which  a  man  of  strong 
piety  would  make  of  the  produce  of  in- 
tegrity and  industry,  and  thus,  over  and 
above  the  concealment,  of  having  been 
dishonest,  to  acquire  the  reputation  of 
being  benevolent. 

We  should,  therefore,  be  disposed 
to  give  the  conduct  of  David  as  furnish- 
ing an  example  for  those,  who,  conscious 
of  a  fault,  are  so  situated  as  to  be  able 
to  reap  advantage  from  that  fault.  Let 
the  case  be  that  at  which  we  have  just 
hinted,  as  not  unlikely  to  occur  amid 
the  complicated  interests  of  a  great 
mercantile  community.  Let  us  suppose 
an  opportunity,  presented  to  a  trader, 
of  making  large  profits,  if  he  will  but 
deviate,  in  some  trifling  particular,  from 
what  is  strictly  and  undoubtedly  upright. 
The  fault  to  be  committed  may  hardly 
be  greater  than  that  committed  by  David, 
who  did  nothing  but  thoughtlessly  give 
utterance  to  a  wish  which  ought  not,  to 
have  been  entertained,  or  at  least  not 
expressed.  It  may  just  depend  on  the 
keeping  back  of  some  piece  of  informa- 
tion which  the  trade  is  not  compelled  to 
divulge,  and  which  others,  if  equally  on 
the  alert,  and  equally  shrewd,  might 
perhaps  have  equally  obtained,  whether 
a  certain  article  shall  fetch  a  certain 
price,  or  be  suddenly  and  greatly  de- 
preciated. The  trader  does  nothing  but 
hold  his  tongue,  as  David  did  nothing 
but  give  it  too  much  license,  and  a  large 
profit  in  consequence  lies  at  his  disposal. 
But  now  a  feeling  is  wrought  in  the 
trader's  mind,  that  it  was  not  the  act  of 
a  conscientious  and  high  principled  man, 
to  take  advantage  of  the  ignorance  of 
others,  and  thus  entangle  them  in  a  bar- 
gain which  they  would  not  have  made, 
with  his  reasons  for  expecting  the  sud- 
den fall  iu  the  market.  And  as  he  de- 
bates what  ought  to  be  done  with  pro- 
perty so  dubiously  acquired,  his  first 
resolution  will   probably   be   to    use   it 


THE  WELI,  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


69 


well  and  religiously :  at  least,  he  will 
say,  it  increases  my  power  of  benefiting 
others,  and  promoting  religious  objects  ; 
and  I  may  lawfully  retain  it,  intending 
that  it  shall  be  thus  employed.  But  this 
is,  to  the  very  letter,  what  David  would 
have  done,  had  he  resolved  to  drink  the 
water,  arguing  that  it  would  refresh  and 
invigorate  him,  and  thus  enable  him 
to  fight  with  greater  strength  the  battle 
of  the  Lord.  But  God  will  have  no  of- 
fering on  which  there  is  a  stain.  Mo- 
ney, soiled  by  the  mode  of  acquisition, 
is  hardly  to  be  sanctified  by  the  mode 
of  employment.  When  Zaccheus  stood 
before  Christ,  and  described  what  he 
did  with  his  property,  he  spake  of  giving 
half  his  goods  to  the  poor;  but,  mark, 
he  did  not  reckon  amongst  those  goods 
what  he  might  have  acquired  through 
underhand  dealing — such  portion,  if 
such  there  were,  was  not  his  to  retain  or 
distribute  at  pleasure  :  "  If  I  have  taken 
any  thing  from  any  man  by  false  accusa- 
tion I  restore  him  fourfold."  There 
was  an  accurate  distinction  made  by  this 
publican,  now  that  he  had  been  brought 
to  a  correct  state  of  mind,  between  resti- 
tution and  almsgiving  :  he  would  give 
alms  of  that  only  which  had  been  honor- 
ably obtained  ;  the  rest  he  returned,  with 
large  interest,  to  those  from  whom  it 
}iad  been  unfairly  procured. 

And  though  it  might  be  impossible 
for  the  trader,  in  the  case  just  suppos- 
ed, to  make  restitution  precisely  to  the 
parties  who  have  been  injured  through 
his  successful  speculations,  we  do  not 
see  how,  with  his  conscience  accusing 
him  of  having  done  wrong,  he  can  law- 
fully appropriate  any  share  of  the  pro- 
fits, any  more  than  David  might  have 
lawfully  drunk  of  the  water  procured  at 
his  ill-advised  wish.  It  may  not  be 
possible  to  make  restitution  :  for  so  in- 
terwoven are  various  interests,  and  so 
7iiany  are  the  contrivances  for  shifting 
off  losses  from  ourselves,  and  making 
them  fall  upon  others,  that  it  is  often 
hard  to  say  where  the  pressure  really 
rests  ;  and  it  is  among  the  most  melan- 
choly of  facts,  that  the  rich  speculator 
who  seems  only  to  sweep  up  the  gains 
of  men  of  large  means  like  himself, 
would  often  be  found,  if  you  could  trace 
the  effects  of  his  speculations  through 
their  multifold  spreadings,  to  have  com- 
passed unwittingly  the  ruin  of  a  hundred 
petty  dealers,  and  wrung  away  the  scanty 


pittance  of  orphans  and  widows.  But 
if  there  may  not  be  restitution,  because 
the  exact  objects  injured  are  not  to  be 
ascertained,  we  do  not,  nevertheless,  un- 
derstand why  there  should  be  appro- 
priation. The  king  of  Israel  held  the 
helmet  in  his  hands,  and  looked  upon  the 
water  as  it  sparkled  in  that  war-cup. 
Was  he  tempted  by  the  freshness  and 
clearness  of  the  converted  draught,  now 
that  he  felt  how  wrong  he  had  been  in 
breathing  the  wish  1  Oh,  no  !  it  looked 
to  him  like  blood  ;  it  came  not  from  the 
well  of  Bethlehem,  but  from  the  veins  of 
his  soldiers  :  shall  he  drink,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  very  life  of  another  1  he  shrinks 
from  the  thought  and  will  do  nothing 
with  the  water  but  pour  it  out  to  God. 

And  the  trader  stands,  with  the  pro- 
fits of  his  scarcely  honorable  speculation 
glittering  before  him.  Shall  he  invest 
them  for  his  own  use  1  shall  he  take 
possession  of  them  for  himself  and  his 
family  1  Oh,  they  may  have  been  coined 
out  of  the  losses,  the  distresses,  the  suf- 
ferings of  numerous  households  ;  they 
may  as  well  seem  to  him  dimmed  with 
tears,  as  the  water  seemed  to  David 
polluted  with  blood  ;  and  we  would  have 
him,  if  his  repentance  be  sincere,  and 
he  desire  to  prove  that  sincerity,  imitate 
the  monarch  in  refusing  to  appropriate 
the  least  portion,  in  pouring  out  the 
whole  as  an  offering  to  the  Lord;  and 
in  exclaiming,  when  tempted  to  profit 
by  the  sin  for  which  he  professes  to  be 
sorry,  "  Be  it  far  from  me,  O  Lord,  that 
I  should  do  this." 

Now  we  have  thus  endeavored  to 
give  a  practical  character  to  a  narrative 
of  scripture,  which  it  is  easy  to  read 
without  supposing  it  to  convey  any  per- 
sonal lessons.  Probably  some  of  you, 
on  the  announcement  of  our  subject,  ex- 
pected us  to  treat  it  as  a  typical  history  : 
for  the  mention  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem, 
and  the  longing  for  its  water,  might  im- 
mediately suggest  that  Christ  was  born 
in  Bethlehem  of  Judah,  and  that  he  of- 
fers to  each  of  us,  what,  in  his  own 
words,  "  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water, 
springing  up  into  everlasting  life."  But 
it  may  be  doubtful  whether  we  have,  in 
this  instance,  sufficient  authority  for  re- 
garding the  registered  occurrences  as 
symbolical  ;  at  all  events,  we  should  ne- 
ver spiritualize  any  narrative  of  facts, 
till  the  facts  have  been  carefully  examined 
as  facts,  and  the  lessons  extracted  which 


70 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


their  record  may  have  been  designed  to 
convey. 

But  whilst  we  should  hesitate  to 
found  any  doctrinal  statement  on  the 
narrative  before  us,  considered  as  typi- 
cal, we  know  not  why.  having  strictly 
confined  ourselves  to  the  plainest  and 
most  practical  view  of  the  passage,  vve 
may  not  now,  in  conclusion,  survey  the 
occurrences  with  an  eye  that  looks  for 
Christ  and  the  Gospel,  in  the  persons  and 
events  of  earlier  dispensations.  There 
may  he  truth  in  the  supposition,  which 
some  have  advanced,  that  David  had 
only  a  spiritual  meaning  in  the  wish  to 
which  he  gave  utterance.  It  is  possi- 
!,:,■:  and,  if  so,  the  whole  transaction 
may  have  had  that  significative  character 
winch  belongs  to  much  of  the  history 
of  early  days,  and  which  turned  occur- 
ences into  parables,  through  which  God 
instructed  his  faithful  servants.  David, 
partially  informed  as  to  the  scheme  of 
redemption,  and  knowing  that  he  him- 
self was,  in  many  points,  set  to  prefigure 
the  Messiah,  must  often  have  longed  for 
fuller  disclosures,  and  striven  to  give 
shape  and  consistency  to  dim,  mysteri- 
ous images,  which  passed  to  and  fro  in 
iiis  visions  as  a  prophet.  He  would  as- 
sociate Bethlehem,  his  own  birth-place, 
with  the  birth-place  of  the  Deliverer 
of  whom  he  was  a  type ;  and  look  natural- 
ly oil  the  trees  and  waters  of  that  village, 
as  obtaining  a  holy,  a  symbolical  char- 
acter from  the  illustrious  Being  who 
would  arise  there  in  "the  fulness  of  time." 
It  might  then  have  been  a  wish  for  great- 
er knowledge  of  redemption,  which  was 
uppermost  in  the  monarch's  mind,  when 
he  longed  for  water  from  the  well  of 
Bethlehem.  How  natural,  that,  harass- 
ed as  he  was  with  temporal  troubles,  he 
should  desire  spiritual  consolations,  and 
that  he  should  pray  for  the  refreshments 
which  were  eventually  to  gush  forth,  as 
he  well  knew,  from  Bethlehem. 

And  may  then;  not  have  been  con- 
veyed to  him,  throng!]  what  then  took 
place,  intimations  in  regard  of  the  de- 
liverance of  tlu?  world  !  Certainly,  it 
were  not  difficult  to  give  a  parabolic 
character  to  the  occurrences,  and  to 
imagine  them  ordered  with  a  view  to 
David's  instruction.  If  water  is  to  be 
fetched  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  it 
must  be  with  the  discomfiture  of  a  vast 
host  of  foes  :  three  unite  in  the  purpose, 
and    overbear    all    opponents.     And    if 


"  living  water  "  is  to  be  brought  to  those 
who  lie  parched  on  the  moral  desert  of 
the  earth,  indeed  it  can  only  be  with  the 
defeat  of  mightier  than  the  Philistines  : 
principality  and  power  withstand  the 
endeavor  :  who  shall  prevail  in  so  great 
an  enterprise1?  Three  must  combine: 
it  is  not  a  work  for  any  one  person,  even 
though  divine  ;  but  three  shall  unite,  to 
strike  down  the  adversaries,  and  bring 
the  draught  of  life  to  the  perishing:  and 
if  the  cup  come  apparently  in  the  hand 
of  but  one  of  the  three,  the  other  two 
shall  have  been  equally  instrumental  in 
procuring  the  blessing. 

Thus  far  there  is  so  much  analogy 
as  would  seem  to  make  it  not  impro- 
bable, that  the  transaction  was  design- 
ed to  be  significative  or  symbolical. 
But  does  the  analogy  end  here  ]  We 
would  not  carry  it  too  far  ;  and  yet  we 
can  believe  that  a  still  deeper  lesson 
was  opened  up  to  David.  Did  he  long 
for  water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem  ] 
did  he  think  that  it  was  only  water, 
something  merely  to  refresh  the  parch- 
ed lip  of  the  pilgrim,  which  was  to  flow 
from  the  Surety  of  a  world  that  iniqui- 
ty had  ruined  1  It  may  have  been  so  : 
it  may  have  been  that  he  was  yet  but 
imperfectly  taught  in  the  mysterious 
truths  of  propitiation  and  redemption. 
What  then  1  he  receives  what  he  had 
longed  for,  what  had  been  drawn  from 
the  well  of  Bethlehem  ;  but  it  seems  to 
him  not  water,  it  seems  to  him  blood, 
the  blood  of  one  of  those  who  had  braved 
so  much  for  his  refreshment.  May  he 
not  have  learned  something  from  this  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  interposition  which 
the  Redeemer  would  make  1  May  he 
not  have  gathered  that  the  fountain  to 
be  opened,  for  the  cleansing  and  refresh- 
ing of  the  world,  would  be  a  fountain 
of  blood  1 

"  My  blood  is  drink  indeed  " — these 
words,  uttered  years  after  by  f$e  Re- 
deemer himself,  may  have  been  virtually 
syllabled  to  the  Psalmist,  through  his 
being  forced  to  regard  as  blood  the  water 
from  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  that  well  to 
which  he  looked  as  typifying,  in  some 
way,  the  person  or  office  of  Christ.  And 
then  there  is  a  high  solemnity  in  his  pnui-- 
ing  out  the  water  unto  the  Lord.  It 
was  the  blood  of  the  costliest  sacrifice, 
and  must  all  be  presented  as  an  expiatory 
offering. 

We  know  not  whether  David  were  thus 


THE  THIRST   OF  CHRIST. 


71 


instructed  or  not ;  whether  the  transac- 
tion were  designed  to  be  significative, 
nor  whether,  if  it  were,  the  symbols  were 
explained.  But  certainly  the  occur-  ; 
rences  are  such  as  might  be  woven  into  ] 
a  kind  of  parable  of  redemption  ;  and  it 
is  always  pleasing  to  find  figures  and 
shadows  which  correspond  to  Christian 
truths,  even  where  we  have  no  express 
warrant  for  asserting  the  resemblance. 
Blessed  be  God,  we  need  not  long  in 
vain  for  water  from  the  well  of  Bethle- 


hem. The  host  of  the  mighty  have  been 
broken  through  ;  a  stronger  than  the 
strong  has  unlocked  for  us  the  Sowings 
of  the  river  of  life  :  but  oh,  if  we  would 
take  of  the  stream,  and  live  for  ever,  we 
must  acknowledge  it  as  the  blood  of 
Him  who  went  on  our  behalf  against 
"principalities  and  powers,"  and  who 
finding  the  springs  of  human  happiness 
dried,  filled  them  from  his  own  veins, 
and  they  gushed  with  immortality. 


SERMON   VIII 


THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST. 


After  this,  Jesus,  knowing  that  all  things  were  now   accomplished,  that  the  Scripture  might  be  fulfilled,  flaith,  I 
thirst." — John,  xix.  28. 


If  an  impostor  were  to  arise,  desirous 
of  passing  himself  off  as  some  personage 
whom  prophets  had  foretold,  he  would 
naturally  take  the  recorded  predictions, 
and  endeavor  to  make  the  facts  of  his 
history  agree  with  their  announcements. 
It  would  evidently  be  useless  for  him 
to  pretend  to  the  being  the  predicted  in- 
dividual, unless  he  could  point  out  at 
least  an  apparent  correspondence  be- 
tween what  he  was,  and  what  lie  did, 
and  the  character  and  conduct  which 
prophecy  had  delineated.  There  would, 
of  course,  be  an  immediate  reference  to 
the  ancient  writings,  an  immediate  com- 
parison of  their  foretellings  with  what 
was  now  given  as  their  accomplishment; 
and  if  the  two  did  not  agree,  the  pre- 
tender would  be  instantly  scouted,  and 
no  one  could  for  a  moment  be  deceived 
by  his  pretensions. 

Hence  the  great  endeavor  of  the  sup- 
posed impostor  would  certainly  be  to 
extract  from  prophecy  a  full  account  of 
the  actions  and  fortunes  of  the  individual 


for  whom  he  wished  to  be  taken,  and 
then,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  make  those 
actions  and  fortunes  his  own.  Suppose, 
for  example,  that  an  impostor  had  desired 
to  pass  himself  off  as  the  Messiah,  the 
deliverer  and  ruler,  so  long  and  anxiously 
expected  by  the  Jews.  He  would  ne- 
cessarily have  been  aware  that  the  na- 
tional expectation  rested  on  certain  an- 
cient prophecies,  and  that  all  which 
could  be  known  beforehand  of  the  Christ 
was  contained  in  certain  books  received 
as  inspired.  It  is  not,  therefore,  to  be 
imagined  that  he  would  fail  to  be  a  stu- 
dent of  prophecy,  or  to  take  its  descrip- 
i  tions  as  sketches  in  which  he  must  ex- 
hibit delineations  of  himself.  But,  sup- 
posing him  to  have  done  this,  could  he 
have  made  much  way  in  establishing  a 
correspondence  between  himself  and 
the  subject  of  prophecy?  It  is  easy, 
I  undoubtedly,  to  find,  or  fancy  predictions 
j  of  which  a  man  might  contrive  an  appa- 
j  rent  fulfilment  in  respect  of  himself. 
|  They  might  be   predictions  of  certain 


72 


THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST. 


things  that  should  be  done,  and  these, 
or  very  similar,  the  man  might  be  able 
to  perform.  They  rofghl  be  predictions 
of  certain  things  that  should  be  suffered  ; 
and  these,  or  very  similar,  the  man  might 
endure.  But  could  the  individual,  whom 
we  liave  supposed  setting  up  for  the 
Messiah,  have  managed  to  effect  a  con- 
formity between  his  actions  and  suffer- 
ings', and  those  predicted  of  our  Lord  ' 
It  is  allowed  on  all  bands,  thai  the  his- 
tory of  Christ,  as  related  in  the  Gospels, 
corresponds,  with  great  accuracy,  to 
what  prophets  bad  foretold  of  the  Mes- 
siah. But  is  the  correspondence  such 
as  an  ingenious  impostor,  having  the 
prophecies  in  his  hands,  and  studying  to 
produce  their  apparent  accomplishment, 
could  have  possibly  effected  "  This  is 
a  question  well  worth  the  being  asked, 
though  the  answer  is  so  easy  that  you 
may  all  give  it  for  yourselves. 

There  are  a  few  respects  in  which  an 
impostor  might  have  contrived  the  ful- 
filment of  prophecy.  But  most  of  the 
predictions  referring  to  Christ  are  of 
things  over  which  the  individual  could 
have  no  control :  predictions,  for  exam- 
ple, as  to  the  place  and  circumstances 
of  his  birth,  as  to  the  treatment  which  he 
Bhould  meet  with,  and  the  death  which  he 
should  die.  They  are  predictions  which 
were  not  to  be  fulfilled  by  the  actions  of 
the  parly  himself,  but  by  the  actions  of 
others;  and  we  need  not  say  how  little 
power  the  individual  could  have  of 
making  others  so  act  as  seemingly  to 
accomplish  prophecy,  however  bent  be 
might  be  on  the  apparently  fulfilling  it 
himself.  And  it  ought  to  be  further 
observed,  thai  if  an  impostor  had  endea- 
vored, in  the  time  of  our  Lord,  to  pass 
himself  off*  as  the  predicted  [Messiah, 
and,  accordingly,  had  attempted  to  effect 
a  correspondence  between  his  own  his- 
tory and  prophecy,  he  would  never  have 
made  himself  "a  man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief."  He  would  have 
taken  the  national  expectation  as  the 
just  interpretation  of  prophecy,  and 
never  have  thought  of  making  good  his 
pretensions  by  affecting  a  resemblance 
between  himself  and  delineations  which 
those  around  him  either  denied  or  dis- 
liked. His  pattern  would  unquestion- 
ably have  been  the  Messiah,  not  as  de- 
scribed by  seers  of  old,  but  rather  as 
described  in  the  popular  explanations  of 
their  visions  :  and  we  need  not  tell  you 


that  such  a  Messiah  was  not  presented 
in  the  person  of  our  Lord  and  Master 
Christ. 

Thus  there  is  nothing  easier  than  the 
showing  that  the  correspondence  which 
may  be  traced  between  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, and  a  mysterious  personage  of 
whom  ancient  prophecy  makes  frequent 
mention,  is  such  as  could  not  have  been 
produced  by  any  impostor,  however  art- 
ful or  powerful.  Even  had  prophecy 
been  far  clearer  and  more  explicit  than 
it  was  ;  had  it  not  required,  in  many 
particulars  which  now  seem  quite 
plain,  the  being  accomplished  in  ordet 
to  the  being  thoroughly  understood  ;  we 
may  fearlessly  declare  that  no  pretender, 
taking  it  as  his  guide,  and  laboring  to 
make  his  life  its  illustration,  could  have 
succeeded  in  effecting,  even  in  appear- 
ance, the  thousandth  part  of  those  nu- 
merous, striking,  and  frequently  minute 
fulfilments  which  are  to  be  traced  in 
the  actions  and  endurances  of  Him  whom 
we  honor  as  the  King  of  Israel,  the 
Anointed  of  God. 

But  why  have  we  gone  into  these  re- 
marks on  a  point  which,  perhaps,  may 
never  have  occurred  to  any  of  our  hear- 
ers 1  for,  probably,  none  of  you  ever  en- 
tertained a  suspicion  that  Christ  might 
have  contrived  those  fulfilments  of  pro- 
phecy on  which  so  much  stress  is  laid. 
Our  reason  is  easily  given.  We  have  in 
our  text  the  record  of  a  thing  done  by 
Christ,  with  the  view,  or  for  the  purpose, 
of  accomplishing  an  ancient  prediction. 
The  course  pursued  is  precisely  that 
which,  according  to  our  foregoing  state- 
ments, an  impostor  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  take.  The  party  claiming  to  be 
the  Messiah  remembers  a  certain  pro- 
phecy which  has  not  yet  been  fulfilled, 
and  forthwith  sets  himself  to  procure  its 
fulfilment.  It  is,  you  see,  expressly 
stated  that  Jesus  said,  "  I  thirst,"  in  order 
that  be  might  bring  round  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  passage  of  Scripture.  And 
bad  this  been  the  solitary  instance  in 
which  prophecy  found  itself  fulfilled  in 
the  history  of  Jesus,  or  had  other  fulfil- 
ments been  of  the  same  kind,  such,  that 
is,  as  might  possibly  have  been  contrived 
or  planned,  we  admit  that  the  argument 
from  prophecy  would  have  been  of  little 
worth  in  establishing  the  Messiabsbip  of 
our  Lord.  But  we  have  already  suffi- 
ciently shown  you  that  no  such  explana- 
tion can  be  given  of  the  correspondences 


THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST. 


73 


between  history  and  prophecy  in  the  case 
of  the  Redeemer  ;  forasmuch  as  many  of 
them  were  such  as  it  was  not  in  the 
power  of  any  pretender  to  have  produced, 
and  many  more  would  have  been  avoided, 
rather  than  attempted,  by  the  shrewdest 
deceiver.  And  this  having  been  deter- 
mined, we  may  allow  that  Christ  occa- 
sionally acted  with  the  express  design  of 
fulfilling  predictions  which  had  reference 
to  himself;  that  he  shaped  his  conduct, 
and  ordered  his  sayings,  with  a  view  to 
agreement  with  what  prophets  had  fore- 
told. We  may  admit  this,  without  any 
misgivings  that  we  perhaps  weaken  the 
argument  from  prophecy,  seeing  that, 
whilst  what  we  admit  is  of  very  rare  oc- 
currence, it  cannot  bring  suspicion  upon 
evidence  derived  from  the  general  char- 
acter of  predictions,  and  their  accomplish- 
ment. 

And  it  is  worth  your  observing  that, 
even  in  the  case  before  us,  though  un- 
questionably Christ  complained  of  thirst 
for  the  purpose  of  fulfiling  a  prophecy, 
it  was  not  in  man's  power  to  insure  the 
fulfilment.  His  mere  complaining  of  the 
thirst  accomplished  no  prediction.  The 
prediction,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  re- 
quired that  when  the  Messiah  was  thirsty 
there  should  be  given  him  vinegar  to 
drink.  Had  our  Lord  asked  for  vinegar, 
and  had  vinegar  been  brought  him,  there 
might  have  been  some  ground  for  saying 
that  he  actually  made  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  prophecy.  But  when  he  only 
complained  of  thirst,  and  when,  in  an- 
swer to  his  complaint,  not  merely  was  a 
sponge  put  to  his  mouth,  but  a  sponge 
full  of  vinegar,  you  may  see  that  there 
were  circumstances,  and  contingencies, 
which  could  hardly  have  been  provided 
for,  except  by  divine  foresight ;  so  that, 
although  indeed  Christ  made  his  com- 
plaint, "that  the  Scripture  might  be  ful- 
filled," there  is  little  probability  that  the 
Scripture  would  have  been  fulfilled  had 
he  not  been  in  truth  the  Son  of  the  living 
God.  You  may  say  that  Christ  saw 
•'the  vessel  full  of  vinegar,"  and  that  he 
might  fairly  have  calculated  that  a  com- 
plaint of  thirst  would  be  met  by  the 
offer  of  vinegar.  But,  at  least,  he  could 
not  have  arranged  that  the  vinegar  should 
be  the  nearest  drink  at  hand,  even  if  it 
were  at  hand  ;  for  "  one  of  them  ran,  and 
took  a  sponge,  and  filled  it  with  vine- 
gar; "  and  thus,  put  the  case  how  you 
will,  the  accomplishment  of  the  prophe- 
Vol.  II. 


cy  hardly  came  within  human  contriv- 
ance. Or  you  may  say,  that,  as  vinegar 
was  commonly  used  by  the  Roman  sol- 
diers, the  almost  certainty  was  that  vin- 
egar would  be  offered  :  but  it  appears 
that  only  one  person  was  willing  to  at- 
tend to  Christ's  complaint,  "  the  rest 
said,  Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias 
will  come  to  save  him."  How  far,  then, 
was  the  accomplishment  from  having 
been  necessarily  in  the  power  of  a  de- 
ceiver ! 

We  may,  however,  consider  that 
enough  has  now  been  said  on  an  objec- 
tion which  might  be  raised  against  a  ful- 
filment of  prophecy,  because  there  was 
an  evident  acting  with  a  view  to  that  ful- 
filment. We  would  pass  to  more  inter- 
esting statements,  which  maybe  ground- 
ed on  the  very  simple,  but  affecting  inci- 
dent, which  is  recorded  in  our  text.  We 
hardly  know  whether,  in  the  whole  nar- 
rative of  the  Mediator's  sufferings,  there 
is  averse  so  full  of  material  for  profitable 
meditation.  We  shall  not  attempt  to 
parcel  out  this  material  under  any  set 
divisions,  but  rather  leave  ourselves  free 
to  follow  such  trains  of  thought  as  may 
successively  present  themselves.  We 
shall  only  assign  it,  as  the  general  ob- 
ject of  the  remainder  of  our  discourse, 
to  examine  the  truths  and  inferences  de- 
rivable from  the  facts,  that,  just  before 
he  expired,  Christ  exclaimed,  "  I  thirst," 
and  that  he  uttered  the  exclamation  in 
order  "that  the  Scripture  might  be  ful- 
filled." 

Now  we  think  it  well  deserving  your 
notice,  that  it  should  have  been  for  the 
sake  of  accomplishing  prophecy,  and  not 
that  of  assuaging  his  pains,  that  our  Lord, 
in  his  last  moments,  complained  of  thirst. 
It  seems  implied  in  the  concise  statement 
of  the  Evangelist,  that,  had  he  not  re- 
membered a  prediction  which  was  yet  un- 
fulfilled, Christ  would  have  been  silent, 
though  he  might  have  used  of  himself  the 
touching  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "My 
strength  is  dried  up  like  a  potsherd,  and 
my  tongue  cleaveth  to  my  jaws."  In- 
tolerable must  have  been  his  thirst  as  he 
hung  between  heaven  and  earth  ;  yet  he 
would  never,  as  it  seems,  have  mentioned 
that  thirst,  nor  asked  a  single  drop  of  mois- 
ture, had  he  not  thought  it  necessary  to 
the  complete  proof  of  his  mission.  You 
know  that  this  is  the  solitary  exclamation 
which  he  uttered  expressive  of  bodily 
suffering.  He  is  not  reported  to  have 
10 


74 


THE  THIRST  OP  CHRIST. 


said  any  thing  when  the  crown  of  thorns  . 
was  fastened  round  his  forehead.  There 
is  DO  recorded  cry,  or  groan,  when  the 
nails  were  driven  into  his  hands  and  feet, 
or  when  the  CTOSS  was  set  upright,  though 
the  pain  must  have  been  acute,  almost 
beyond  thought  He  endured  all  this, 
not  only  without  a  murmur,  but  without 
even  a  manifestation,  or  indication,  of 
his  agony;  so  that  never  was  there  the 
matfyr  who  bore  with  greater  fortitude 
the  torments  of  a  lingering  and  excruciat- 
ing death. 

Hia  other  sufferings,  however,  scarcely 
admitted  of  alleviation  ;  there  was  no- 
thing to  be  done  but  submit,  and  wait 
patiently  for  death.  Though  even  in  re- 
gard of  these  he  seems  to  have  declined 
the  ordinary  modes  of  mitigation,  for  he 
refused  the  "  wine  mingled  with  myrrh," 
which  was  tendered  him  just  before  his 
crucifixion,  and  which,  by  partially  stu- 
pifying  the  victim,  might  have  diminish- 
ed the  torture.  He  had  a  great  work  to 
perform  on  the  cross,  and  he  would  not 
deaden  his  faculties  ere  he  ascended  that 
terrible  altar. 

But  thirst  might  have'been  relieved — 
—thirst,  which  must  have  been  one  of 
the  most  distressing  consequences  of 
crucifixion — and  it  would  have  been 
natural  that  he  should  have  asked  of  the 
bystanders  a  few  drops  of  water.  And 
he  did  mention  his  thirst,  but  not  for  the 
sake  of  moistening  the  parched  tongue 
and  throat — only  to  afford  occasion  for 
another  proof  of  his  being  the  Messiah. 
It  is  as  though  he  had  no  thought  to 
give  to  his  sufferings,  but,  even  in  the 
moment  of  terrible  extremity,  were  in- 
tent upon  nothing  but  the  great  work 
which  he  had  undertaken  for  men.  We 
may  even  venture  to  think  that  not  only 
was  it  not  for  the  sake  of  mitigating  his 
sufferings  that  he  complained  of  thirst  ; 
but  that  it  was  an  increase  of  those  suf- 
ferings to  have  to  make  the  complaint. 
The  multitude,  which  stood  round,  were 
disposed  to  treat  him  with  derision ; 
they  were  watching  him,  maliciously  and 
scornfully,  that  they  might  triumph  in 
his  anguish.  You  may  judge  how  eager 
they  were  to  show  contempt  and  hatred 
of  the  sufferer,  from  what  we  have 
already  referred  to,  as  having  occurred 
on  his  utterance  of  the  piteous  cry, 
"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me  ?  "  The  insulting  shout  im- 
mediately arose,  "  This  man  calleth  for 


Elias  " — so  ready  were  they  to  make 
him  the  subject  of  ridicule,  and  so  on 
the  watch  for  proof  that  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  driving  the  iron  into  his  soul. 
But  hitherto  be  had,  as  it  were,  al- 
most baffled  and  disappointed  them  :  he 
had  betrayed  little  or  no  emotion  ;  but, 
by  his  apparent  superiority  to  bodily 
torture,  had  denied  them  all  occasion  fox- 
fierce  exultation.  And  it  quite  consists 
with  what  we  know  of  the  innocent  but 
sensitive  sufferer,  that  we  should  suppose 
it  a  new  trial  to  him  to  have  to  confess 
what  be  felt,  and  thus  to  expose  himself 
to  the  revilings  of  his  inveterate  ene- 
mies. There  had  been  hitherto  such  a 
majesty  in  his  anguish,  such  an  awful 
and  dignified  defiance  of  torture,  as  must 
almost  have  made  the  executioner  crouch 
before  the  victim.  And  now  must  he, 
as  it  were,  yield  1  Must  he,  by  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  suffering,  gratify  a 
savage  crowd,  and  pierce  the  few  fond 
and  faithful  hearts  which  were  to  be 
found  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  1  His 
mother  was  within  hearing  ;  at  her  side 
was  the  disciple  whom  he  loved  ;  they 
were  already  wounded  to  the  quick — 
shall  he  lacerate  them  yet  more  by 
speaking  of  his  wretchedness  ? 

But  the  Scripture  must  be  fulfilled. 
There  was  yet  a  particular  in  which 
prophecy  had  to  be  accomplished  ;  and 
every  other  feeling  gave  way  to  that  of 
the  necessity  of  completing  the  proof  of 
his  being  the  Messiah.  It  was  the  last, 
and  one  of  the  most  touching,  of  the 
evidences  of  his  love.  It  was  only  his 
love  for  us  which  made  him  speak  of 
his  thirst.  He  would  not  leave  the 
smallest  room  for  doubt  that  he  was  in- 
deed the  promised  Redeemer  :  he  loved 
us  too  well  not  to  provide  against  every 
possible  suspicion  ;  and  therefore,  though 
he  would  never  have  complained  for  the 
sake  of  obtaining  any  assuagement  of 
the  pain  ;  though  he  would  have  desired 
to  avoid  complaining,  that  he  might  not 
provoke  fresh  insult  from  the  multitude  ; 
though  he  would  have  kept  silence,  if 
only  that  he  might  not  add  to  the  grief 
of  the  few  who  tenderly  loved  him  ;  yet, 
rather  than  allow  the  least  particle  to 
be  wanting  in  the  evidence  whereby  we 
might  know  him  as  the  Christ,  he  gave 
all  but  his  last  words  to  an  expression 
of  distress. 

Oh,  we  know  of  nothing  which  more 
shows  the  ardency  of  the  Savior's  love 


THE  THIRST  OP  CHRIST. 


75 


for  the  church,  than  this  confession  of 
thirst  just  before  he  expired.  We  look 
on  him  with  admiration,  as  he  stands 
unmoved  before  Pilate,  and  returns  no 
answer  to  the  vehement  accusations 
poured  forth  by  his  countrymen.  "  He 
is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter  ; 
and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is 
dumb,  so  he  openeth  not  his  mouth." 
We  behold  him  scourged,  and  buffeted, 
and  crowned  with  thorns,  and  nailed  to 
the  accursed  tree — and  we  are  amazed, 
yea,  confounded,  by  his  patience  ;  for 
not  the  least  cry  is  wrung  from  him  in 
his  anguish.  Is  it  that  he  does  not  feel 
acutely  1  Is  it  that  his  humanity  is  not 
&ensitive  to  pain  ?  Ah,  not  so.  He  is, 
all  the  while,  tortured  by  an  excrucia- 
ting thirst,  which  is  at  once  the  evidence 
and  the  accompaniment  of  racking  pangs. 
But  he  has  to  set  an  example  of  endur- 
ance ;  he  is  moreover  occupied  with 
thoughts  and  hopes  of  the  world's  deliv- 
erance ;  and,  therefore,  by  a  mighty  ef- 
fort, he  keeps  down  the  struggling  sor- 
row, and  restrains  every  token  of  agony. 

This,  then,  is  in  love  to  us  ;  his  silence 
is  in  love  to  us.  But  it  might  have  ac- 
corded best  with  the  feelings  of  so  lofty 
a  Being,  thus  to  baffle  his  adversaries, 
by  refusing  to  let  them  see  him  writhe 
beneath  their  merciless  inflictions — does 
he  love  us  so  well  that  he  will  even 
yield  to  those  adversaries,  and  confess 
himself  vanquished,  if  it  might  be  for 
our  good?  Yea,  even  this  he  will  do; 
for  remembering,  as  he  hangs  upon  the 
cross,  a  prediction  which  has  yet  to  be 
fulfilled,  he  forgets  all  in  his  desire  to 
provide  for  our  conviction,  and  breaks 
into  the  cry,  "  I  thirst,"  in  order  only 
that  the  Scripture  might  be  accom- 
plished. 

But  we  have  stated  that  the  predic- 
tion, which  our  Lord  had  in  mind,  was 
not  one  of  great  prominence,  not  one 
perhaps  whose  fulfilment  would  appear 
to  us  of  much  moment.  We  may  sup- 
pose it  to  have  been  to  words  in  the 
sixty-ninth  Psalm  that  Christ  mentally 
referred  :  "  They  gave  me  also  gall  for 
my  meat,  and  in  my  thirst  they  gave  me 
vinegar  to  drink."  There  is  no  other 
express  prophecy  whose  accomplish- 
ment he  can  be  thought  to  have  con- 
templated; and  we  may  venture  to  say, 
that,  if  this  had  not  been  literally  ful- 
filled in  respect  of  our  Lord,  we  should 
hardly  have  urged    it    as    an    objection 


against  his  pretensions.  Accustomed  to 
regard  the  Psalms  as  spoken  primarily 
in  the  person  of  David,  we  do  not  ex- 
pect, even  when  they  are  undoubtedly 
prophetic,  to  find  every  line  verified  in 
the  history  of  that  Messiah  of  whom 
David  was  the  type.  We  experience 
no  surprise,  if,  in  a  Psalm,  the  quota- 
tions from  which  in  the  New  Testament 
prove  that  it  speaks  of  the  Christ,  we 
meet  with  verses  which  we  cannot  dis- 
tinctly show  to  be  applicable  to  our 
Lord.  Suppose  then  that  Christ  had 
died  without  complaining  of  thirst,  and 
without  receiving  the  vinegar — we  should 
perhaps  scarcely  have  said  that  there 
was  a  prediction  which  had  never  been 
accomplished.  We  should  either  have 
supposed  that  the  verse  in  question  be- 
longed in  some  way  to  David,  or  we 
should  have  given  it,  as  we  easily  might, 
a  figurative  sense,  and  then  have  sought 
its  fulfilment  in  the  indignities  and  cruel- 
ties of  which  Christ  was  the  subject. 

And  this  shows  you  what  a  very  mi- 
nute particular  it  was  in  the  predictions 
of  himself,  which  caused  our  Lord  to 
break  silence,  and  utter  an  expression 
of  suffering.  It  was  a  particular  which 
we  should  probably  have  overlooked 
or  of  which,  at  least,  we  should  never 
have  reckoned  the  literal  accomplish- 
ment indispensable  to  the  completeness 
of  the  prophetic  evidence  for  Christ. 
Yet,  so  anxious,  so  determined  was  the 
Redeemer  to  leave  us  no  possible  ex- 
cuse for  rejecting  him  as  the  anointed 
of  God,  that,  not  satisfied  with  having 
fulfilled  all  but  this  inconsiderable  par- 
ticular, and  though  to  fulfil  it  must  cost 
him,  as  we  have  shown  you,  a  very  pain- 
ful effort,  he  would  not  breathe  out  his 
soul  till  he  had  tasted  the  vinegar.  This 
was  indeed  a  manifestation  of  his  love : 
but  there  are  other  truths,  besides  that 
of  the  Savior's  solicitude  for  our  good, 
to  be  drawn  from  his  determination  tha«- 
the  least  prophecy  should  not  go  unac- 
complished. 

You  will  observe  that  it  is  affirmed 
in  the  text,  that  Jesus  knew  that  all 
things  were  now  accomplished ;  and 
that,  knowing  this,  he  proceeded  to 
speak  of  his  thirst,  with  a  view  to  the 
fulfilment  of  yet  one  more  prediction. 
Of  course  there  were  many  things  which 
had  not  been  accomplished,  many  whose 
accomplishment  was  still  necessarily 
future,  having  respect  to  the  burial,  re- 


76 


THE  THIRST  OP  CHRIST. 


surrection,  ascension,  and  triumph  of 
Christ.  Bui  Jesus  knewthal  every  thing 
was  accomplished,  which  had  to  be  ac- 
complished before  his  actual  death,  ex- 
cept the  receiving  the  vinegar.  He 
knew  thai  there  remained  nothing  but 
thai  the  words,  "In  my  thirst  they  gave 
rue  vinegar  to  drink,"  should  be  fulfilled 
in  his  person,  and  he  mighl  resign  his 
bouI  into  the  hands  of  the  Father,  con- 
vinced thai  every  prophecy  which  bore 
reference  to  the  life  or  death  of  the  Mes- 
siah, had  received  its  completion,  and 
would  be  a  witness  for  him  to  all  after 
ages.  You  must  admil  that  the  text  re- 
presents .lesus  ;is  knowing  that  there  was 
but  on,-  word  of  prophecy  which  had  not 
yet  been  accomplished,  and  that,  too,  a 
prophecy  of  so  inconsiderable  ;i  particu- 
lar, that  we  should  scarcely  have  detected 
the  want,  had  our  Lord  died  without 
bringing  it  to  pass. 

Thi>  is  ;i  most  surprising  testimony 
to  the  completion  of  prophecy  :  it  is  a 
bold  challenge  to  the  infidel  who  would 
dispute  the  claims  of  Him  who  hung 
upon  the  cross.  By  taking  an  apparent- 
ly unimportant  prediction,  and  dealing 
with  it  as  the  only  prediction,  whether 
in  type  or  in  word,  which  had  not  yet 
been  fulfilled,  Jesus  may  be  said  to  have 
staked  his  Messiahship  on  every  single 
prophecy — "  Find  one,  a  solitary  one, 
which  1  have  not  accomplished,  and  I 
resign  all  pretension  to  the  being  God's 
Son."  And  when  you  come  to  think  of 
the  multitude  of  predictions  which  have 
respect  to  the  life  and  death  of  the  Mes- 
siah, and  of  the  almost  countless  mysti- 
cal rites  which,  equally  with  the  visions 
of  seers,  shadowed  tin'  "  One  Mediator 
between  (rod  and  man,"  you  can  hardly 
fail  to  be  amazed  at  the  assertion,  that 
Jesus  knew  that  "  all  things  were  now 
accomplished."  Yet,  believing  him  to 
have  beer,  divine,  we  know  him  to  have 
been  omniscient;  and,  therefore,  we  are 
emboldened  so  to  state  the  argument 
from  prophecy,  as  to  be  ready  to  give 
up  all,  if  you  can  find  a  single  Haw. 
The  writings  of  "  holy  men  of  old  " 
teem  with  notices  of  that  Being  whom 
God  had  promised  to  send  in  "  the  ful- 
nesE  of  time."  Some  of  these  notices 
relate  to  important,  others  to  apparently 
trivial  particulars.  The  line  of  which 
lie  was  to  spring,  the  power  by  which 
he  should  be  conceived,  the  place  in 
which   he  should   be   born,  the   dangers 


which  should  threaten  his  childhood,  the 
miracles  which  he  should  work  in  his 
manhood,  the  treatment  which  he  should 
receive,  the  malice  of  his  enemies,  the 
desertion  of  his  friends,  the  price  at 
which  he  should  be  sold,  the  dividing  of 
his  garments,  the  death  which  he  should 
die — all  these  are  stated  with  the  preci- 
sion and  minuteness  of  history;  as 
though  prophets  had  been  biographers, 
and,  not  content  with  general  outlines, 
had  been  instructed  to  furnish  records 
of  daily  actions  and  occurrences.  And 
over  and  above  predictions  so  compre- 
hensive yet  so  abounding  in  detail,  there 
are  figurative  rites  which  all  had  respect 
to  the  same  illustrious  person  ;  a  thou- 
sand types  foreshow  his  office,  a  thou- 
sand emblems  represent  his  deeds  and 
his  sufferings. 

And  we  are  not  satisfied  with  saying, 
that,  in  every  striking  and  prominent 
particular,  a  correspondence  may  be 
traced  between  the  Christ  whose  his- 
tory we  have  in  the  Gospels,  and  the 
Christ  whom  we  find  in  the  strains  of 
prophets,  and  the  institutions  of  the  law. 
We  do  not  ask  you  to  admit  that  it  must 
have  been  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  that  the 
Old  Testament  spake,  and  that  the 
temple  services  were  full,  because  there 
are  certain  main  features  of  that  person 
in  the  description  of  inspired  writers, 
and  the  shadows  of  ceremonial  observ- 
ances. Our  position  is,  that  there  is  not 
a  single  line  of  prophecy,  which  can  be 
shown  to  refer  to  the  life  and  death  of 
the  Messiah,  which  was  not  accomplished 
in  Jesus  ;  not  a  single  type  in  the  law 
to  which  he  was  not  an  antitype.  You 
are  at  liberty  to  take  any  prediction,  you 
are  at  liberty  to  lake  any  shadow  ;  and 
we  are  ready  to  rest  the  cause  of  Christi- 
anity on  that  prediction's  having  been 
fulfilled  in  Jesus,  or  on  his  having  been 
the  substance  of  that  shadow.  Neither 
is  this  the  challenge  of  a  rash  and  boast- 
ful theology.  This  is  the  criterion  which 
the  Founder  of  our  religion  himself  may 
be  said  to  have  appointed,  and  that,  too, 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  finish- 
ing our  redemption.  And  we  know  not 
how  to  convey  to  you  our  idea  of  the 
wonderfulness  of  the  fact,  that  Christ 
could  feel,  after  he  had  hung  for  hours 
upon  the  cross,  that,  if  a  few  drops  of 
vinegar  were  given  him  by  a  by-stander, 
every  jot  and  tittle  would  be  accom- 
plished of  all  that  had  been  foretold  of 


TITE  THIRST   OP  CHRIST. 


77 


the  Messiah,  up  to  the  time  of  his  death, 
from  the  first  prophecy  to  Adam  to  the 
iast  words  of  Malachi.  But  it  is  unques- 
tionable, from  our  text,  that  such  was 
his  feeling  ;  upon  this  feeling  we  may 
safely  ground  the  challenge:  rather, 
we  may  consider  it  as  the  challenge  of 
the  Redeemer  himself  to  the  unbelieving 
of  every  generation. 

It  seems  to  us  as  though  the  Savior, 
whilst  suspended  between  earth  and 
heaven,  had  summoned  before  him  every 
prophet  and  seer  whom  God  had  raised 
up  in  successive  ages  of  the  world,  and 
had  required  each,  as  he  passed  in 
review,  to  give  in  his  claims  on  the  pre- 
dicted Messiah.  No  marvel  that  he 
almost  forgot  his  intense  sufferings  whilst 
engaged  in  so  sublime  and  momentous 
an  inquiry,  whilst  communing  with  patri- 
archs and  priests,  and  the  long  train  of 
heralds  who  had  seen  his  day  afar  off, 
and  kept  expectation  alive  amongst 
men.  And  Abraham  recounts  to  him 
all  the  particulars  of  the  sacrifice  of  his 
son  :  Jacob  reminds  him  of  the  departure 
of  the  sceptre  from  Judah :  Moses 
speaks  of  the  resemblance  which  must 
be  borne  to  himself:  Aaron,  in  his 
sacerdotal  vestments,  crowds  the  scene 
with  mystic  figures.  Then  arise  the 
later  prophets.  They  speak  of  his  virgin 
mother ;  of  his  divine  parentage,  and 
yet  of  his  descent  from  David.  Isaiah 
produces  his  numerous,  and  almost  his- 
toric, delineations  :  Daniel  reckons  up 
his  seventy  weeks  :  Micah  fixes  the  na- 
tivity to  Bethlehem  Ephratah  :  Zechariah 
weighs  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  and 
introduces  her  king  to  Jerusalem,  "rid- 
ing upon  an  ass,  and  a  colt,  the  foal 
of  an  ass  :"  Malachi  revives  Elias,  and 
sends  him  as  a  messenger  to  "  prepare 
the  way  of  the  Lord."  And  David,  as 
though  his  harp  had  been  fresh  strung, 
pours  forth  again  his  touching  melodies, 
repeating  the  piteous  complaints  which, 
mingled  at  times  with  notes  of  triumph, 
he  had  been  instructed  to  utter  in  his 
typical  character. 

But  one  after  another  of  these  ancient 
worthies  passes  from  before  the  Media- 
tor, leaving  him  assured  that  there  is  not 
the  line  in  his  prophetic  scroll  which  has 
not  been  accomplished.  And  that  Me- 
diator is  just  about  to  commend  his  soul 
into  the  hands  of  the  Father,  satisfied  of 
there  being  no  defect  in  the  evidence 
from  prophecy,  when  one  saying  of  the 


royal  Psalmist  strikes  him  as  not  yet 
literally  verified,  and  he  defers  death  a 
moment  longer,  that  this  too,  though 
seemingly  of  little  moment,  may  hold 
good  of  himself.  Yes,  champions  of 
infidelity,  disprove  it  if  you  can,  and  if 
you  cannot,  explain,  if  you  can,  on  your 
own  principles,  how  the  almost  countless 
lines  of  prophecy  came  to  meet  in  one 
person,  and  that  one  Jesus  whom  you 
refuse  to  adore.  Yes,  followers  of  the 
Savior,  search  deeply  into  the  fact,  and 
after  searching,  fail,  if  you  can,  to  tri- 
umph in  the  having  as  your  leader  one 
who  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  in  the  short 
space  of  a  life,  whatsoever  voices  and 
visions  from  on  high  had  assigned, 
through  many  centuries,  to  the  seed  of 
the  woman.  True  it  is,  gloriously,  in- 
contestibly  true,  that  Jesus  had  only, 
just  before  he  died,  to  exclaim,  "I  thirst," 
and  to  receive,  in  answer  to  his  com- 
plaint, a  few  drops  of  vinegar  on  a 
sponge,  and  he  could  then  breathe  out 
his  spirit,  amid  the  confessions  of  patri- 
archs, and  prophets,  and  priests,  and 
kings,  each  testifying,  with  a  voice  of 
wonder  and  of  worship,  that  "  all  things," 
without  a  solitary  exception,  that  "  all 
things  were  now  accomplished." 

But  our  text  throws  light  on  another 
doctrine,  or  fact  which,  if  often  presented 
to  your  attention,  is  of  so  great  impor- 
tance as  to  deserve  the  being  frequently 
stated.  We  are  now  about  to  refer  to 
the  power  which  Christ  had  over  his 
life,  a  power  which  caused  his  death  to 
differ  altogether  from  that  of  an  ordinary 
man.  We  wish  you  to  observe  the  sur- 
prising composedness  which  is  indicated 
by  the  words  on  which  we  now  dis- 
course. They  seem  to  represent  Christ, 
according  to  our  foreging  statement,  as 
actually  examining  all  the  records  of 
prophecy,  that  he  might  determine 
whether  there  yet  remained  any  thing 
to  be  done  before  the  soul  could  be  dis- 
missed from  the  body.  They  give  us 
the  idea  of  a  being  who,  in  full  posses- 
sion of  every  faculty,  is  engaged  in  in- 
vestigating ancient  documents,  rather 
than  of  one  who,  exhausted  by  protracted 
sufferings,  is  on  the  point  of  dissolution. 
How  wonderful  that  the  recollection 
should  be  so  clear  !  that  the  almost  ex- 
piring man  should  be  able,  amid  the 
throes  of  death,  to  fix  on  a  single,  incon- 
siderable prediction,  to  decide  that  there 
was  no  other,  out  of  an  immense  assem- 


7S 


THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST. 


blage,  which  had  yet  to  be  accomplished, 
ami  to  take  measures  for  its  being  ac- 
complished before  he  breathed  his  last! 
What  collectedness,  what  superiority 
to  Buffering,  yea,  what  command  over 
death  ! 

For  it  is  evident — and  this  is  the  most 
remarkable  thing— that  Jesus  deter- 
mined that  lie  would  live  until  the  pre- 
diction were  fulfilled,  and  that  he  would 
die  so  soon  as  it  weri'.  The  Evangelist 
tells  us.  ••  When  Jesus,  therefore,  had 
received  the  vinegar,  he  said,  It  is 
finished  ;  ami  he  bowed  his  head  and 
gave  up  the  ghost."  Tie  waited  till  the 
vinegar  hail  been  given  him,  till,  that  is, 
the  only  unaccomplished  prophecy  had 
been  accomplished,  and  then  imme- 
diately, as  though  it  were  quite  optional 
with  him  at  what  moment  he  would  die, 
'•  nave  up  the  "host."  This  is  amazing; 
this  is  unlike  death,  though  it  was 
actually  the  separation  of  body  and  soul; 
for  where  is  the  necessity  of  nature? 
where  the  ebbing  away  of  strength] 
where  the  gradual  wearing  out  of  the 
principle  of  life  I  Christ  evidently  died 
just  when  he  chose  to  die,  and  only  be- 
cause he  chose  to  die  :  he  had  the  spirit 
in  his  own  keeping,  and  could  retain  or 
dismiss  it  as  he  pleased.  You  find  that 
Pilate  and  others  wondered  at  finding 
him  so  soon  dead  ;  he  died  sooner  than 
a  crucified  person  could  have  been  ex- 
pecled  to  die;  and  herein  too  he  had 
reference  to  prophecy,  for  had  he  lin- 
gered the  ordinary  or  natural  period, 
his  legs  would  have  been  broken,  as 
were  those  of  the  malefactors  executed 
witli  him.  whereas  there  was  a  typical 
prediction,  in  the  paschal  lamb,  that  not 
a  bone  of  him  should  he  broken. 

So  that,  with  Christ,  to  die  was  strictly 
a  voluntary  act — "  1  lay  down  my  life: 
no  man  taketh  it  from  me,  but  I  lay  it 
down  of  myself;  I  have  power  to  lay  it 
down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it  again" 
— it  was  an  act  of  which  he  could  fix  the 
precise  moment,  which  he  could  hasten 
or  delay  at.  his  own  pl<  asure,  which  no 
pain,  no  disease,  no  decay  could  effect, 
but  which  was  wrought,  altogether  and 
at  once,  by  his  will.  Death  was  not 
with  him  what  it  will  be  with  one;  of  us. 
We  -hall  die  through  necessity,  with  no 
power  over  the  soul,  whether  of  retain- 
in::  or  dismissing;  exhausted  by  sick- 
ness, or  broken  up  by  accident,  unable 
to  make  the  pulse  beat  one  more  or  one 


less  than  shall  be  ordained  by  a  Being 
who  is  immeasurably  beyond  our  control. 
But  what  resemblance  is  there  between 
this  and  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  on  the 
cross  1  Though  dying  what  would  be 
ordinarily  a  lingering  death, — dying,  to 
use  a  common  expression,  by  inches, 
and  therefore  certain  to  be,  at  the  least, 
exhausted  and  spent — we  find  him,  in 
the  few  moments  preceding  dissolution, 
with  every  power  in  full  play,  the  mind 
all  in  action  for  the  accomplishing  his 
mission,  and  keeping,  as  it  were,  the 
vital  principle  under  its  orders,  ready  to 
be  suspended  so  soon  as  prophecies  were 
fulfilled. 

Call  ye  this  death  ]  Yes,  men  and 
brethren,  this  was  really  death  :  he  who 
hung  upon  the  cross  died  as  actually  as 
any  one  of  us  will  die  ;  for  death  is  the 
separation  of  the  soul  from  the  body  ; 
and  the  soul  of  Christ  went  into  the 
separate  state,  whilst  his  body  was  con- 
signed to  the  grave.  But  call  ye  this 
the  death  of  a  mere  man  1  can  ye  ac- 
count for  the  peculiarities  of  Christ's 
death,  except  by  supposing  him  the 
Lord  of  life  and  glory  'I  Martyrs,  ye 
died  bravely,  and  beautifully ;  but  ye 
died  not  thus.  Saints  of  God,  ye  went 
wondrously  through  the  last  struggle  ;  but 
ye  went  not  thus.  Oh,  it  is  a  noble  thing, 
that  we  can  go  to  the  scene  of  cruci- 
fixion, and  there,  in  spite  of  all  the  igno- 
miny and  suffering,  discover  in  the  dying 
man  the  incarnate  God.  The  Jew  and 
the  Greek  may  taunt  us  with  the  shame 
of  the  cross  ;  we  glory  irr  that  cross  :  at 
no  moment  of  his  course  has  the  Deity 
shone  more  brightly  through  the  human- 
ity of  the  Mediator  :  not  when  his  voice 
was  heard  in  the  grave,  and  the  buried 
returned  to  the  living,  did  he  more  con- 
spicuously show  divine  power  over  death, 
than  in  the  releasing,  when  he  would, 
his  own  soul  from  the  body.  Come 
with  us  and  gaze  on  this  mysterious 
person  dying,  "the  just  for  the  unjust." 
Seems  he  to  you  to  be  dying  as  an  or- 
dinary man  1  Can  ye  find  no  difference 
between  him  aud  those  crucified,  the  one 
on  his  right  hand,  and  the  other  on  his 
left  1  Nay,  in  them  you  have  all  the 
evidence  that  life  is  being  drained  out 
drop  by  drop,  and  that  they  are  sinking 
beneath  a  process  of  painful  exhaustion. 
But  in  him  there  are  no  tokens  of  the 
being  overmastered,  enfeebled,  or  worn 
down.     In  that  mangled   and    bleeding 


THE  THIRST  OF  CHRIST. 


79 


body,  there  seems,  to  all  appearance,  as 
much  animation  as  though  there  had 
not  been  going  on,  for  hours,  an  assault 
on  the  citadel  of  life.  Let  us  watch  his 
last  moments,  let  us  observe  his  last  act. 
But  those  moments  are  over,  whilst  we 
thought  them  yet  distant;  he  has  sud- 
denly expired,  though  an  instant  ago 
there  was  no  sign  of  death.  How  is 
this  I  how,  but  that  he  has  indeed  proved 
the  truth  of  his  assertion,  "  No  man 
taketh  my  life  from  me,  but  I  lay  it  down 
of  myself!  "  an  assertion  which  could 
be  true  of  no  one  who  had  not  an  actual 
lordship  over  life,  who  was  not  in  fact, 
his  own  source  of  life,  who  was  not  in 
fact  the  Author  of  life.  He  has  retained 
his  spirit  whilst  he  chose;  he  has  dis- 
missed that  spirit  when  he  would  ;  and 
thus,  though  in  the  form  of  a  creature, 
he  has  exercised  the  prerogative  of  the 
Creator. 

The  cross,  then,  with  all  its  shame, 
the  act  of  dissolution,  with  all  its  fearful- 
ness,  bears  as  strong  attestation  to  the 
essential  Deity  of  Christ,  as  the  most 
amazing  miracle  performed,  or  the  fullest 
prophecy  accomplished.  And  we  bow 
before  a  Being,  as  more  than  human,  as 
nothing  less  than  divine,  who  died  by 
his  own  act,  though  nailed  to  a  cross  ; 
by  an  effort  of  his  own  will,  though 
beneath  the  hands  of  fierce  executioners  ; 
we  hail  him,  even  in  the  midst  of  igno- 
miny, as  "  the  image  of  the  invisible 
God,"  seeing  that  he  could  forbid  the 
departure  of  the  soul  whilst  there  re- 
mained a  prediction  unfufilled,  and  com- 
mand it  into  paradise  the  moment  that 
he  saw  that  all  things  were  accomplished. 

Now  they  have  not,  we  think,  been 
either  uninterestingor  unimportant  truths 
which  we  have  thus  derived  from  tlu3 
fact  that  Christ  complained  of  thirst  on 
the  cross,  on  purpose  "that  the  Scripture 
might  be  fulfilled."  But  we  have  yet  to 
fix  your  thoughts  more  particularly  on 
Christ  as  an  example,  exhorting  you  to 
observe  how  engrossed  he  was  with  the 
work  of  redemption,  how  intent  up  to 
the  last  moment  of  life,  on  performing 
the  will  of  the  Father  who  sent  him. 
You  must  not  think  that,  because  Jesus 
had  such  power  over  his  own  life  as  we 
have  just  now  described — a  power  which 
made  him  inaccessible  to  death,  except 
so  far  as  he  chose  to  give  death  per- 
mission— he  did  not  suffer  acutely  as 
he  hung  upon  the  cross.     It  is  true  that 


crucifixion  never  could  have  killed  him, 
and  that  he  did  not  die  of  the  torture 
and  exhaustion  thereby  produced ;  but 
nevertheless  it  is,  on  this  very  account, 
true,  that  his  sufferings  must  have  vastly 
exceeded  those  of  the  malefactors  cru- 
cified with  him.  So  far  as  the  natural 
effects  of  crucifixion  were  concerned,  he 
was  not  necessarily  nearer  dying  when 
he  died  than  when  first  fastened  to  the 
tree.  But  what  does  this  prove,  except 
that,  retaining  from  first  to  last  all  his 
sensibilities,  he  must,  from  first  to  last, 
have  endured  the  same  exquisite  tor- 
ments 1  whereas,  had  he  been  dying,  just 
as  the  thieves  on  either  side  of  him 
were,  he  would  gradually  have  become 
faint  through  loss  of  blood  and  excess 
of  pain,  and  thus  have  been  less  and  less 
sensitive  to  the  pangs  of  dissolution. 

Thus,  in  keeping  the  vital  principle 
in  undiminished  vigor  up  to  the  moment 
of  the  departure  of  the  soul,  Christ  did 
I  but  keep  undiminished  the  inconceivable 
anguish  of  being  nailed  to  the  cross ; 
crucifixion,  as  it  were,  was  momentarily 
repeated,  and  the  agony  of  each  instant 
was  the  agony  of  the  first.  Yet  even  to 
this  did  the  Mediator  willingly  submit  : 
for  had  he  allowed  himself  the  relief  of 
exhaustion,  his  faculties  would  have  been 
numbed,  and  he  had  full  need  of  these, 
that  he  might  finish  in  death  what  he 
had  been  engaged  on  in  life.  What  an 
example  did  he  thus  set  us,  that  we 
decline  every  indulgence  which  might 
possibly  incapacitate  us  for  doing  God's 
work  and  submit  cheerfully  to  every  in- 
convenience which  may  attend  its  per- 
formance !  Oh,  never  were  the  Re- 
deemer's love,  and  zeal,  and  patience  so 
conspicuous  as  throughout  those  dark 
hours  when  he  hung  upon  the  tree. 
He  might  have  died  at  once ;  and  we 
dare  not  say  that  even  then  our  re- 
demption would  not  have  been  complete. 
There  would  have  been  equally  the 
shedding  of  precious  blood,  and  equally 
perhaps  the  expiatory  offering,  had  he 
sent  his  soul  into  the  separate  state  the 
instant  that  his  body  had  been  nailed  to 
the  cross.  But  he  would  tarry  in  tribu- 
lation, that  he  might  survey  his  vast  un- 
dertaking, gather  up  the  fragments,  an- 
ticipate every  possible  objection,  and  be- 
queath the  material  of  conviction  to  all 
who  were  not  obstinately  bent  on  in- 
fidelity. 

What  hearts  must  ours  be,  that  we  can 


so 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


look  so  coldly  on  the  Bufferer — Buffering 
"for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation!'' 
His  last  thoughts,  as  his  earliest  had 
been,  were  on  our  deliverance,  on  our 
welfare  Even  the  words  which  he 
uttered,  "that  the  Scripture  might  be 
fulfilled,"  were  as  expressive  of  his 
mental  as  of  his  bodily  feeling.  Indeed 
be  did  thirst:  "the  zeal  of  thuie  house 
hath  consumed  me:"  lie  was  parched 
with  longing  tin-  the  glory  of  Hod  and 
the  safety  of  man.  "  1  thirst  :"  I  thirst 
to  see  of  the  travail  of  my  soul  :  I  thirst 
for  the  effects  of  my  anguish,  the  dis- 
comfiture of  Satan,  the  vindication  of 
my  Father,  the  opening  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  to  all  believers. 

Shall  our  last  end  be,  in  any  measure, 
like  this  !  Would  that  it  might !  Would 
that,  when  we  come  to  die,  we  may 
thirst  with  the  thirst  of  the  Redeemer's 
soul !  "  Blessed  are  they  that  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness,  for  they 
shall  be  filled."  "  My  soul  thirsteth  for 
thee,"  is  an  exclamation  of  the  Psalmist, 
when  declaring  the  ardency  of  his  long- 
ings after  God.  And  our  Savior  en- 
dured thirst,  that  our  thirst  might  be 
quenched.  His  tongue  clave  to  the  roof 
of  his  mouth — "  my  heart,"  saith  he, 
"  in  the  midst  of  my  body,  is  even  like 


melting  wax " — that  we,  inhabitants 
naturally  of  "  a  dry  and  barren  land," 
might,  have  access  to  the  river  of  life, 
which,  clear  as  ci-ystal,  pours  itself 
through  the  paradise  of  God. 

Who  does  not  thirst  for  these  waters  1 
Ah,  brethren,  there  is  nothing  required 
but  that  every  one  of  us  should  be  able, 
with  perfect  truth,  to  declare,  "  I  thirst," 
and  the  Scripture  shall  be  fulfilled  in 
that  man's  drawing  water  out  of  the 
wells  of  salvation.  For  the  invitations 
of  the  Bible  presuppose  nothing  but  a 
sense  of  want,  and  a  wish  for  relief. 
"  Ho  !  every  one  that  thirsteth  " — there 
is  the  summons,  there  the  description. 
Oh,  that  we  may  now  thirst  with  a  thirst 
for  pardon,  a  thirst  for  reconciliation,  a 
thirst  for  holiness.  Then,  when  we 
come  to  die,  we  shall  thirst  for  the  joys 
of  immortality — for  the  pleasures  which 
are  at  God's  right  hand  :  we  shall  thirst, 
even  as  Christ  did,  that  the  Scripture 
may  be  fulfilled  :  and  the  Scripture  shall 
be  fulfilled  :  for,  bowing  the  head  and 
giving  up  the  ghost,  we  shall  be  in  his 
presence  with  whom  is  "the  fountain 
of  life ;"  and  every  promise  that  has 
cheered  us  here,  shall  be  turned  into 
performance  to  delight  us  for  ever. 


SERMON    IX 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 


And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  as  he 
Lord,  teacl 


a  certain  place,  wlien  he  ceased,  one  of  his  disciple 
;  John  also  tuuirlit  his  disciples. — Luke  XI.  1. 


There  wore  two  occasions  on  which 
our  blessed  Savior  delivered  that  form 
of  prayer  which  is  known  by  his  name. 
The  first  was  in  the  sermon  on  the 
mount,  about  the  time  of  Pentecost ; 
the  second  was  in  answer  to  the  request 


made  him  in  the  text,  about  the  Feast 
of  Tabernacles,  many  months  afterwards. 
You  are  not  to  confound  the  two  occa- 
sions, as  though  the  Evangelists  St. 
Matthew  and  St.  Luke  had  but  given 
different  accounts  of  one  and  the  same 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORDS  PRAYER. 


81 


delivery.  The  occasions  were  wholly 
dissimilar,  separated  by  a  considerable 
interval  of  time  :  on  the  one,  Christ  gave 
the  prayer  of  himself,  with  nothing  to 
lead  to  it  but  his  own  wish  to  instruct; 
whereas,  on  the  other,  he  was  distinct- 
ly asked  by  one  of  his  disciples,  who 
probably  did  but  speak  in  the  name  of 
the  rest. 

We  cannot  suppose  that  these  disci- 
ples had  forgotten  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
Whether  or  not  all  now  present  had 
been  present,  at  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  we  may  justly  conclude  that 
they  were  all  well  acquainted  with  the 
comprehensive  form  which  Christ  had 
delivered  for  the  use  of  the  church. 
Why,  then,  did  they  ask  for  another 
form  of  prayer  1  and  what  are  we  to 
learn  from  Christ's  meeting  the  wish 
by  simply  repeating  that  before  given  1 
These  are  not  mere  curious  questions  ; 
you  will  presently  see  that  they  involve 
points  of  great  interest  and  importance. 
Without  advancing  any  conjectures,  let 
us  look  at  the  Lord's  Prayer  as  given 
in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  as 
here  again  given  in  answer  to  the  re- 
quest of  the  disciples  :  the  comparison 
may  furnish  some  clue  which  will  guide 
us  in  our  search. 

Now  we  have  spoken  of  the  prayer 
delivered  on  the  two  occasions,  as  though 
it  had  been  altogether  the  same  :  this 
however  is  not  strictly  the  case  ;  there 
are  certain  variations  in  the  versions 
which  should  not  be  overlooked.  Some 
of  these,  indeed,  are  very  slight,  requir- 
ing only  to  be  mentioned,  not  examined  ; 
such  as  that,  in  the  one,  the  word 
"debts"  is  used,  in  the  other,  "sins;" 
St.  Luke  says,  "  Give  us  day  by  day  ;" 
St.  Matthew,  "  Give  us  this  day,  our 
daily  bread."  Such  differences  are  evi- 
dently but  differences  in  the  mode  of 
expression. 

There  is,  however,  one  remarkable 
variation.  On  the  second  occasion  of 
delivering  his  prayer,  our  Lord  altoge- 
ther omitted  the  doxology  with  which 
he  had  concluded  it  on  the  first.  He 
quite  left  out,  that  is,  the  words,  "  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power, 
and  the  glory,  for  ever.  Amen."  Now 
there  can  be  little  doubt,  that,  in  con- 
structing his  form  of  prayer,  Christ  had 
respect  to  the  religious  usages  of  the 
Jews.  It  is  said  that  a  serious  student 
of  the  Gospel,  and  one  at  the  same  time 
Vol.  II. 


versed  in  Jewish  antiquities,  may  trace, 
at  every  step,  a  designed  conformity  to 
the  rules  and  practices  of  devotion 
which  were  at  that  time  observed. 
Without  attempting  generally  to  prove 
this,  it  will  be  worth  our  while  to  consi- 
der what  was  the  Jewish  custom  as  to 
the  conclusion  of  their  prayers,  whether 
public  or  private. 

We  find,*  that  in  the  solemn  services 
of  the  Temple,  when  the  priest  had  con- 
cluded a  prayer,  the  people  were  wont 
to  make  this  response  ;  "  Blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  glory  of  his  kingdom  for 
ever  and  ever."  Public  prayer — pray- 
er, that  is,  in  the  Temple,  finished  with 
a  doxology  very  similar  to  that  which 
concludes  the  Lord's  Prayer.  But  this 
doxology  was  never  used  in  more  pri- 
vate prayer,  prayer  in  a  synagogue,  or 
in  a  house.  Observe,  then  :  our  Lord 
gives  his  prayer  on  the  first  occasion 
with  the  doxology,  on  the  second,  with- 
out it:  what  may  we  infer  from  this] 
Surely,  that  he  wished  his  disciples  to 
understand  that  the  prayer  was  designed 
both  for  public  use  and  for  private. 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  the 
prayer  had  concluded  with  the  doxol- 
ogy;  and  the  disciples,  we  may  believe, 
had  thence  gathered  that  the  prayer 
was  intended  to  be  used  in  the  Temple. 
But  they  still  wanted  a  form  for  private 
devotion,  and  on  this  account  preferred 
the  request  which  is  contained  in  our 
text.  Our  Lord  answers  the  request 
by  giving  them  the  same  form,  but  with 
the  omission  of  the  doxology ;  thus 
teaching  that  his  prayer  was  adapted  to 
the  closet  as  well  as  to  the  church. 
If  regard  be  had  to  Jewish  usages,  no- 
thing can  seem  less  objectionable  than 
this  explanation  of  the  insertion  of  the 
doxology  in  one  place  and  its  omission 
in  another.  The  prayer  was  delivered 
twice,  to  prove  that  it  was  to  serve  for 
public  use  and  for  private.  Christ  show- 
ed that  it  was  to  be  a  public  prayer  by 
giving  it  with  a  doxology  ;  a  private,  by 
giving  it  without ;  for  a  doxology  was 
that  which  was  then  used  in  the  Temple, 
but  not  in  a  house. 

And  this  further  explains  why  our 
Lord  did  not  add  "  Amen,"  in  conclu- 
ding his  prayer  on  the  second  occasion. 
It  was  usual  amongst  the  Jews  not  to 


*  Lightfoot,  Talniudical  Exercitations  upon  S£. 
Matthew. 

11 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


add  the  Amen  to  prayera  which  were 
only  petitionary,  but  to  reserve  it  for 
expressions  of  thanksgiving  and  bene- 
diction :  whereas,  the  doxology  being 
omitted,  the  Lord's  prayer,  you  observe, 
oecame  purely  petitionary.  There  is 
evidence  of  tin's  in  the  Book  of  Psalms: 
.  is  full  of  prayers,  but  the  pray- 
ers do  not  end  with  Amen.  If  the 
psalmisl  use  the  Amen,  it  is  after  such 
an  exclamation  as  this:  "Blessed  be 
the  Lord  for  evermore."  You  may 
trace  jusi  the  same  custom  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  Apostles.  Thus  St.  Paul 
asks  the  speaker  with  tongues,  "How 
.  thai  occupieth  the  room  of  the 
unlearned  say  Amen,  at  the  giving  of 
thanks  !"  and  it.  is  generally  after  some 
ascription  of  praise,  or  expression  of 
benediction,  that  he  adds  an  Amen  : 
'•  The  Creator,  who  is  blessed  for  ever, 
Amen  :"  "  Now  the  God  of  peace  be 
with    you  all,  Amen." 

Now  it  is  a  fact  of  very  great  inter- 
est,  which  thus  appears  fairly  establish- 
ed— namely,  that  the  second  delivery  of 
the  Lord's  prayer,  as_  compared  with 
the  first,  goes  to  the  proving  that  the 
petitions  in  this  prayer  are  equally  adapt- 
ed to  private  and  to  public  devotion; 
that  we  cannot  find  a  more  suitable  or 
comprehensive  form,  whether  for  the 
gathering  of  "the  great  congregation," 
for  domestic  worship,  or  for  the  retire- 
ment of  our  closet.  Our  Lord  did  not 
indeed  mean  to  tie  us  down  to  the  use 
of  this  prayer,  as  though  we  were  never 
to  use  any  other,  or  never  to  expand  in- 
to larger  supplication.  Put  he  may 
certainly  he  thought  to  have  given  this 
prayer  as  a  perpetual,  universal  model; 
and  to  have  asserted  its  containing  an 
expression  for  every  want  and  every  de- 
sire which  may  lawfully  be  mule  the 
Bubjed  of  petition  unto  God.  There 
ought  to  be  no  debate  as  to  the  suitable- 
ness of  this  prayer  for  all  places  and 
seasons,  a  tier  you  have  remarked  the 
peculiarities  of  its  double  delivery.  Do 
you  doubt  whether  it  be  a  form  well 
adapted  to  the  public  assembly  I  then 
observe  that  its  petitions  woe  first  ut- 
tered by  our  Lord,  with  such  a  doxology 
appended  as  was  never  then  used  but 
at  the  solemn  gatherings  in  the  temple 
ofGod.  When  you  have  hereby  con- 
vinced yourselves  of  its  suitableness  for 
public  worship,  will  you  hesitate  as  to 
its  fitness  for  more  private   occasions  I 


for  the  devotional  meetings  of  the  fami- 
ly, or  for  your  own  secret  communion 
with  God  1  Then  you  resemble  the  dis- 
ciples, who,  having  heard  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  yet  imagined  a  need  for  a 
different  form  of  prayer  in  their  religious 
retirements.  But  surely  it  should  teach 
you,  that,  at  one  time  as  well  as  at  an- 
other, the  Lord's  prayer  should  find  its 
way  from  the  heart  to  the  lip,  to  know 
that  our  blessed  Savior — omitting  only 
the  doxology,  and  thus  consecrating  to 
the  use  of  the  closet  what  he  had  before 
consecrated  to  the  use  of  the  church — ■ 
gave  precisely  the  same  form,  in  answer 
to  the  request  of  these  disciples,  "  Lord, 
teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also  taught  his 
disciples." 

But  hitherto  we  have  made  no  way  in 
commenting  on  the  text,  except  that  we 
may  have  explained  the  request  of  the 
disciples — a  request  which  has,  at  first, 
a  strange  look,  as  though  Christ  had  not 
already  delivered  a  form  of  prayer,  or  as 
though  what  he  had  delivered  were  al- 
ready forgotten.  We  remove  this  strange 
look,  by  observing  our  Loi'd's  answer,  and 
inferring  from  it  that  what  the  disciples 
now  solicited  was  a  form  of  private  pray- 
er :  what  they  had  previously  received 
passed  with  them  as  designed  for  public 
occasions  ;  and  the  second  delivery  of  the 
same  form,  but  with  certain  alterations, 
both  shows  us  the  want  of  the  disciples, 
and  teaches  us  how  such  want  might  best 
be  supplied. 

We  will  now,  however,  endeavor  to 
bring  before  you  certain  other  and  very 
interesting  truths,  which  are  involved, 
more  or  less  prominently,  in  the  state- 
ments of  the  text.  And,  first,  as  to  the 
employment  of  Christ  when  the  disciples 
approach  and  prefertheirrequest.  There 
is  nothing  to  show  distinctly  whether  our 
blessed  Redeemer  had  been  engaged  in 
private  prayer,  or  had  been  praying  with 
his  followers.  But  we  learn,  from  many 
statements  of  the  Evangelists,  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  retiring  for  purposes 
of  private  devotion  :  "  He  withdrew  into 
the  wilderness  and  prayed;"  he  "went 
out  into  a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued 
all  night  in  prayer ;  "  he  was  "  alone  pray- 
ing." And  perhaps  it  agrees  best  with 
the  expressions  in  our  text,  that  we  should 
suppose  our  Lord  to  have  been  engaged 
in  solitary  prayer  :  "As  he  was  praying 
in  a  certain  place."  The  disciples  had 
probably  been  absent  from  him,  as  when 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


they  left  him  sitting  on  Jacob's  well, 
whilst  they  went  into  the  city  to  buy 
meat.  On  their  return  they  behold  him 
at  prayer  :  they  draw  reverently  back  ; 
they  would  not  intrude  on  him  at  so  sa- 
cred a  moment.  But  the  thought  occurs 
to  them — "Oh,  what  a  time  for  obtaining 
a  new  lesson  in  prayer ;  let  us  seize  on 
it — let  us  ask  him  to  instruct  us  whilst, 
like  Moses  coming  down  from  the  mount, 
his  face  yet  shines  with  celestial  com- 
munings." They  watch  the  opportunity 
— you  see  how  it  is  stated  :  "  When  he 
ceased,  one  of  his  disciples  said  unto  him." 
They  appear  to  have  stood  at  a  distance, 
that  they  might  not  interrupt  the  solemn 
exercise  ;  but,  so  soon  as  they  saw  the 
exercise  concluded,  they  pressed  eagerly 
forward  to  share  in  its  benefit. 

But  whether  or  not  this  were  then  the 
relative  position  of  Christ  and  his  disci- 
ples— whether  he  was  alone  praying,  or 
whether  they  were  praying  with  him — 
we  know,  as  we  have  already  said,  that 
our  Lord  was  wont  to  engage  in  solitary 
prayer  ;  and  there  is  no  attitude,  in  which 
this  Divine  person  is  presented  to  us, 
wherein  he  is  more  wonderful,  more  de- 
serving to  be  considered  with  all  that  is 
deepest,  and  most  reverent,  in  attention. 
You  expect  to  find  Christ  working  mir- 
acles— for  you  know  him  to  be  God  in 
human  form  ;  and  you  feel  that  he  must 
give  such  credentials  of  his  mission  as 
shall  suffice,  if  not  to  remove  all  unbelief, 
yet  to  leave  it  inexcusable.  You  even 
expect  to  find  him  enduring  anguish — 
for  you  know  him  to  have  assumed  hu- 
man nature,  that  he  might  be  capable  of 
suffering  ;  and  you  thoroughly  assent  to 
the  fundamental  truth,  that  "without 
shedding  of  blood  is  no  remission."  But 
you  could  hardly  have  expected  to  have 
found  him  spending  whole  nights  in  pray- 
er. What  has  that  pure,  that  spotless 
Being,  in  whom  "dwelleth  all  the  fulness 
of  the  Godhead  bodily,"  to  do  with  im- 
portunate supplication,  as  though  he 
were  in  danger  of  offending  his  heavenly 
Father,  or  had  to  wring  from  a  reluctant 
hand  supplies  of  that  grace,  of  which 
himself  is,  after  all,  the  everlasting  foun- 
tain ? 

There  is  a  mysteriousness  about  Christ 
praying,  which  should  almost  warn  us 
back,  as  it  seems  to  have  warned  the  dis- 
ciples. For  we  are  not  to  suppose  that 
our  Redeemer's  prayers  were  all  similar 
to  that  which  is  recorded  in  the  seven- 


teenth chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  and 
in  which  there  is  the  calmness  of  an  In- 
tercessor who  knows  that  he  shall  pre- 
vail, or  who  feels  that  he  but  asks  what 
himself  has  right  to  bestow.  St.  Paul, 
in  his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  speaks  of 
him  in  language  which  obliges  us  to  re- 
gard him  as  having  wrestled  in  prayer, 
wrestled  even  as  one  of  us  may  wrestle, 
with  much  strain  and  anguish  of  mind. 
The  Apostle  there  says  of  Christ : 
"  Who,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  when  he 
had  offered  up  prayers  and  supplications, 
with  strong  crying  and  tears,  unto  him 
that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death, 
and  was  heard  in  that  he  feared."  There 
may  be  here  a  special  reference  to  our 
Lord's  agony  in  the  garden,  when,  as 
you  remember,  he  besought  earnestly  of 
the  Father,  that,  if  it  were  possible,  the 
cup  might  pass  from  him.  But  we  have 
no  right  to  confine  the  Apostle's  state- 
ment to  this  particular  scene  :  we  may 
rather  conclude,  that,  when  our  blessed 
Savior  spent  whole  nights  in  prayer,  his 
supplications  were  mingled  with  tears, 
and  that  it  was  witli  the  deep  emotions 
of  one,  who  had  blessings  to  procure 
through  importunity,  that  he  addressed 
himself  to  his  Father  in  heaven. 

You  may  wonder  at  this — you  may  ask 
how  this  could  be  ;  and  we  can  only  an- 
swer, that,  though  the  Redeemer  was 
both  God  and  man — two  natures  having 
been  indissolubly  joined  in  his  one 
Divine  person — yet,  as  man,  he  seems  to 
have  had  the  same  battles  to  fight,  the 
same  assistance  to  depend  upon,  as 
though  he  had  not  also  been  God,  but, 
like  one  of  ourselves,  had  had  the  devil 
for  his  enemy,  and  only  the  Holy  Ghost 
for  his  comforter.  There  is  frequently 
a  mistake  upon  this,  and  one  which  prac- 
tically takes  away  from  Christ's  example 
all  its  power  and  persuasivenes.  Why 
was  Christ  able  to  resist  the  devil  1  Why 
was  Christ  able  to  keep  himself  "holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from 
sinners  ]"  Because,  many  are  ready  to 
reply,  he  was  God  as  well  as  man.  But 
surely  this  must  be  an  erroneous  reply. 
It  supposes  that  when  he  was  exposed 
to  temptation,  the  Divine  nature  in  his 
person  came  to  the  assistance  of  the  hu- 
man, upheld  it,  and  made  it  triumphant. 
And  how  then  could  Christ  be  an  exam- 
ple to  us,  who,  being  merely  men,  can 
not  fly  from  one  nature  in  ourselves  to 
another,  from  the  weaker  to  the  stronger, 


84 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


when   attacked    by  certain  enemies,  or 
exposed  to  certain  dangers? 

The  scriptural  representation  is  just 
the  opposite  to  this.  It  sets  before  us 
Christ  as  having  been  as  truly  a  man,  as 
truly  left  as  a  man  to  a  man's  duties,  a 
man's  trials,  a  man's  helps,  as  though,  at 
the  same  time,  all  the  fulness  of  God- 
head had  not  dwelt  in  him  bodily.  It 
was  not  to  the  divine  nature  in  his  own 
person  that  he  could  have  recourse  when 
hard  pressed  by  temptation  :  he  had  to 
lean,  like  one  of  ourselves,  on  the  aids 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  aids  sought  by  prayer, 
and  appropriated  by  faith.  The  divine 
nature  in  his  person  appears  to  have  had 
nothing  to  do  with  holding  up  the  human, 
but  only  with  the  conferring  infinite 
worth  on  its  sufferings  and  actions  :  it 
did  not  give  the  patience  to  endure, 
though  it  gave  the  preciousness  to  the 
endurance  ;  it  did  not  give  the  strength 
to  obey,  but  the  untold  merit  to  the  obe- 
dience. 

And,  upon  this  representation,  we  can 
somewhat  enter,  though  still  but  remote- 
ly, into  the  prayers  of  .our  blessed  Re- 
deemer. He  was  a  man,  with  a  man's 
infirmities,  though  not  with  a  man's  sin- 
ful propensities  ;  living,  as  a  man,  the 
life  of  faith  ;  fighting,  as  a  man,  the  bat- 
tle with  principalities  and  powers  ;  and 
he  had  before  him  a  task  of  immeasur- 
able intenseness,  which  he  could  not 
contemplate,  as  a  man,  without  a  sense 
of  awfulness,  we  had  almost  said  of 
dread.  In  this  his  state  of  fearful  war- 
fare and  tremendous  undertaking,  he 
had  to  have  recourse  to  those  assistances 
which  are  promised  to  ourselves,  which 
we  have  to  seek  for  by  prayer,  and 
which  even  he,  notwithstanding  his  one- 
ness with  the  other  persons  in  the  Trin- 
ity, had  to  procure,  to  preserve,  and  to 
employ,  through  the  same  processes  as 
the  meanest  of  his  disciples.  Hence,  it 
may  be,  his  midnight  watchings;  hence 
his  "strong  crying  and  tears;"  hence  his 
prolonged  and  reiterated  supplications. 

And  however  mysterious,  or  actually 
incomprehensible,  it  may  be,  that  a 
Beintr,  as  truly  God  as  he  was  man, 
should,  as  man,  have  been  as  much 
thrown  on  a  man's  resources  as  though 
he  had  not  also  been  (bid,  yet  what  a 
comf  >rt  is  it  that  Christ,  was  thus  identi- 
fied with  ourselves,  that  he  went  through 
our  trials,  met  our  dangers,  and  experi- 
enced our  difficulties  !      We  would  have 


had  but  little  confidence  in  committing 
our  prayers  to  a  high  priest  who  had 
never  had  to  pray  himself.  But  oh, 
how  it  should  encourage  us  to  wrestle  in 
prayer,  to  be  fervent  and  importunate 
in  prayer,  that  it  is  just  what  our  blessed 
Lord  did  before  us ;  and  that  having,  as 
our  Mediator,  known  continually  the 
agony  of  supplication,  he  must,  as  our 
Advocate,  be  all  the  more  disposed,  in 
the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  to  put  our 
tears  into  his  bottle,  and  to  gain  audience 
for  our  cries.  It  might  strike  me  with 
greater  amazement  to  see  Christ  raise 
the  dead.  It  might  fill  me  with  deeper 
awe,  to  behold  Christ  upon  the  cross. 
But  it  ministers  most  to  my  comfort,  to 
look  at  Christ  upon  his  knees.  Then  I 
most  know  him  as  my  brother  in  all  but 
my  sinfulness,  myself  in  all  but  the  cor- 
ruption which  would  have  disabled  him 
for  being  my  deliverer. 

Oh,  let  it  be  with  us  as  with  the  dis- 
ciples ;  let  us  gaze  on  the  Redeemer  as 
he  is  "  praying  in  a  certain  place ;"  and 
we  shall  be  more  than  ever  encouraged 
to  the  asking  from  him  whatsoever  we 
can  need.  Then  we  have  him  in  the 
attitude  which  should  give  confidence, 
let  our  want  be  what  it  may  ;  especially 
if  it  be  a  freer  breathing  of  the  soul — 
and  this  breathing  is  prayer — which  we 
desire  to  obtain.  Christ  will  sometimes 
seem  so  great,  so  far  removed  from  our- 
selves, that  the  timid  want  courage  to 
address  him.  Even  suffering  hardly 
appears  to  bring  him  down  to  our  level ; 
if  he  weep,  it  is  over  our  sins  that  his 
tears  fall,  and  not  over  his  own;  if  he 
is  stricken,  it  is  that  by  his  stripes  we 
may  be  healed  ;  if  he  die,  it  is  that  we 
may  live.  But  when  he  prays,  he  prays 
for  himself.  Not  but  that  he  also  prays 
for  others,  and  even  we,  too,  are  required 
to  do  this.  But  he  prays  for  himself, 
though  he  does  not  suffer  for  himself. 
He  has  wants  of  his  own  for  which  he 
asks  a  supply,  dangers  against  which  he 
seeks  protection,  difficulties  in  which  he 
entreats  guidance.  Oh,  who  will  now 
be  afraid  of  going  to  him  to  be  taught  1 
Who  will  not  feel,  as  he  sees  Jesus 
"  praying  in  a  certain  place,"  that  now 
is  the  precious  moment  for  casting  our- 
selves before  him,  and  exclaiming  with 
the  disciples,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray, 
as  John  also  taught  his  disciples." 

Now  it  is  a  very  important  use  which 
has  thus  been  made  of  the  text,  in  that 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OP  THE  LORDS  PRAYER. 


the  approach  of  the  disciples  to  the 
Savior,  at  the  moment  of  his  rising  from 
prayer,  serves  to  admonish  us  as  to 
Christ's  power  of  sympathy,  "in  that  he 
himself  hath  suffered,  being  tempted  ;" 
and  to  encourage  us  to  go  to  him  in  the 
full  assurance  of  his  being  as  well  able 
to  understand,  as  to  satisfy,  our  wants. 
But  there  is  still  a  very  beautiful  account 
to  which  to  turn  the  fact,  that  it  was 
immediately  on  his  rising  from  his  knees, 
that  our  Lord,  delivered,  for  the  second 
time,  his  form  of  prayer  to  his  disciples. 
There  was,  as  we  have  already  hinted, 
an  evident  appropriateness  in  the  request 
of  the  disciples,  if  you  consider  it  rela- 
tively to  the  employment  in  which  Christ 
had  just  been  engaged.  It  was  not  a 
request  to  be  taught  how  to  preach — 
that  might  have  been  the  more  suitable 
had  Christ  just  delivered  his  Sermon  on 
the  Mount.  It  was  not  a  request  to  be 
enabled  to  work  miracles — that  might 
have  more  naturally  followed,  had  Christ 
just  been  healing  the  sick  or  casting  out 
devils.  But  it  was  a  request  for  instruc- 
tion in  prayer,  coming  immediately  on 
Christ's  having  been  praying,  as  though 
the  disciples  felt  that  he  must  then  have 
known  most  of  the  difficulties  of  prayer, 
and  also  of  its  privileges ;  and  that,  his 
soul  having  been  engaged  in  high  com- 
munion with  God,  his  tongue  might  be 
expected  to  clothe  itself  with  the  richest 
expressions  of  desire  and  the  most 
potent  words  of  entreaty. 

And  you  will  all  feel  how  natural,  or 
rather,  how  just,  was  this  thought  of  the 
disciples,  that  the  best  moment  for  a 
lesson  from  Christ  in  prayer,  was  when 
Christ  himself  had  just  finished  praying. 
It  is  precisely  the  thought  which  we 
ourselves  should  entertain,  and  on  which 
we  should  be  ready  to  act,  in  regard  of 
any  eminent  saint  from  whom  we  might 
wish  instruction  and  assistance.  If, 
feeling  my  want  of  some  other  form  of 
prayer  than  that  which  I  possess,  I  de- 
termined to  apply  to  a  christian  distin- 
guished by  his  piety,  and  to  ask  him  to 
compose  for  me  a  form,  at  what  moment, 
if  I  might  choose,  would  I  prefer  my  re- 
quest i  At  the  moment  of  his  rising 
from  his  knees.  When,  I  should  say  to 
myself,  is  his  mind  so  likely  to  be  in  a 
devotional  attitude,  when  may  I  so  justly 
expect  the  frame  and  the  feeling  adapted 
to  the  dictating  pregnant  and  prevailing 
petitions,  as  when  he  is  fresh  from  the 


footstool  of  God,  and  has  not  yet  lost 
the  unction  which  may  be  believed  to 
have  been  on  him,  as  he  communed  with 
Heaven  1 

But  were  I  to  address  myself  to  him 
at  this  moment  with  my  request,  and 
were  he,  in  reply,  simply,  but  solemnly, 
to  repeat  to  me  the  Lord's  Prayer,  what 
should  I  conclude  1  Certainly  that,  in 
his  judgment,  and  when  moreover  that 
judgment  was  best  circumstanced  for 
deciding,  no  prayer  could  be  composed 
so  admirably  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  my  wants  as  this ;  and  that,  having 
this,  I  required  no  other.  It  is  a  sepa- 
rate question  whether  his  decision  would 
be  right ;  we  now  only  urge,  that  in  no 
conceiveable  method,  could  he  deliver  a 
stronger  testimony  to  the  excellence  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer. 

But  this  is  exactly  the  kind  of  testi- 
mony which  is  furnished  by  the  circum- 
stances related  in  our  text.  Christ,  on 
rising  from  his  knees,  is  asked  by  his 
disciples  for  a  form  of  prayer  adapted  to 
seasons  of  private  devotion.  He  does 
nothing  but  repeat  the  prayer  which  he 
had  delivered  in  his  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  What  an  evidence  that  no 
better  could  be  furnished  !  Fresh  as  he 
was  from  direct  intercourse  with  his 
Father  in  heaven,  the  spirit  warmed,  if 
we  may  so  speak,  through  devotional 
exercise,  he  could  furnish  no  fuller,  no 
more  comprehensive  expression  of  the 
wants  and  desires,  which,  as  creatuies, 
we  may  spread  before  our  Creator,  than 
the  few  and  brief  petitions  which  he  had 
combined  on  a  previous  occasion. 

There  is  nothing  which  gives  me  so 
exalted  an  idea  of  the  worth  and  ex- 
cellence of  the  Lord's  Prayer  as  this. 
In  many  ways,  indeed,  may  this  worth 
and  excellence  be  demonstrated  ;  every 
new  demonstration  not  only  estab- 
lishing the  points  in  debate,  but  sug- 
gesting material  for  additional  proof. 
And  we  owe  much  to  commentaries  on 
the  Lord's  Prayer  by  learned  and  pious 
men,  who,  expanding  its  several  peti- 
tions, have  shown  that  there  is  nothing 
which  we  can  lawfully  desire,  whether 
for  this  world  or  for  the  next,  whether 
as  inhabitants  of  earth  or  as  candidates 
for  heaven,  which  is  not  virtually  con- 
tained in  these  few  sentences.  Other 
forms  of  prayer,  so  far  as  they  are 
scriptural  and  sound,  are  but  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  beaten  out,  its  syllables 


86 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


spread,  as  they  may  be,  into  volumes. 
Indeed,  there  ia  no  slight  analogy  be- 
tween this  prayer  and  the  law.  The 
law  was  given  twice,  even  as  this  prayer 
was  given  twice.  The  law,  meaning 
thereby  the  Ten  Commandments,  is  a 
summary  of  all  things  to  be  done;  and 
this  prayer,  of  all  things  to  be  desired. 
The  law  divides  itself  into  duties  which 

have  resped  to  <  rod  and  duties  which 
have  respect  to  man  ;  and  similarly,  the 
prayer  contains  petitions  for  God's-honor, 

and'  then  petitions  for  others  and  our- 
selves. And  as  the  few  precepts  of  the 
moral  law,  when  expounded  by  our 
blessed  Redeemer,  grew— like  the  few 
loaves  which,  beneath  his  creative  touch, 
became  the  food  of  thousands — till  there 
was  a  command  for  every  action,  yea,  a 
rule  for  each  word  and  each  thought; 
so  has  the  prayer  only  to  be  drawn  out 
by  a  spiritual  apprehension,  and  there 
is  a  breathing  for  every  want,  an  expres- 
sion lor  every  desire,  an  ejaculation  for 
every  emergence. 

But  whilst  all  this  may  be  satisfactorily 
shown  through  lengthened  and  patient 
inquiry,  and  whilst  we  may  hereby  reach 
conviction  of  such  a  fulness  and  such  a 
comprehensiveness  in  the  Lord's  prayer, 
that  we  ask  every  thing  which  we  ought 
to  ask  in  offering  its  petitions,  the  short, 
but  equally  sure,  mode  of  establishing 
the  fact,  is  to  observe  how  this  prayer 
was  the  second  time  delivered.  I  am 
never  so  impressed  with  the  beauty,  the 
depth,  the  largeness,  yea,  the  inexhausti- 
bleness  of  this  form,  as  when  I  hear  it 
uttered  by  Christ,  in  reply  to  the  request 
of  his  disciples.  If  I  ever  feel  wearied 
by  repetitions  of  this  prayer,  or  tempted 
to  think  that  some  variation  from  it 
would  he  an  improvement,  I  can  look  at 
the  circumstances  of  its  second  delivery, 
and  want  no  other  commentary  to  con- 
vict me  of  error.  It  is  not.  the  first  de- 
livery which  is  so  replete  and  reproach- 
ful in  evidence.  I  receive  indeed  the 
prayer  with  all  docility,  and  all  rever- 
ence, as  it  falls  from  the  Savior's  lips  in 
his  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  But  he  then 
delivered  it  as  a  form  for  public  prayer, 
suited  to  numbers  who  might  not  have 
made  much  progress  in  religion;  had  he 
been  afterwards  asked,  he  might  have 
furnished  a  yet  intenser  and  more;  spirit- 
ual model,  for  such  as  were  of  higher 
growth  in  piety.  Besides,  our  Lord 
was  then  preaching ;  and  the  tempera- 


ment, if  we  may  use  the  expression,  of 
the  preacher,  is  not  likely  to  be  that 
which  is  most  adapted  to  prayer.  With- 
out confounding  the  Redeemer  with  one 
of  ourselves,  we  may,  in  a  measure, 
justly  reason  from  ourselves,  when  con- 
sidering what  occupation  is  most  conge- 
nial with  devotional  feeling.  And,  cer- 
tainly, the  attitude  of  an  instructor  does 
not  commend  itself  as  best  suited  to  the 
spirit  of  a  suppliant.  If  I  wanted  tuition 
from  a  preacher  in  prayer,  I  should  not 
wish  it  from  him  whilst  he  was  preaching, 
not  even  though  prayer  might  be  the 
subject  of  his  sermon.  I  would  go  to 
him  in  bis  closet  rather  than  in  his  pulpit; 
that  in  the  more  subdued  tone  of  mind, 
in  the  calmer,  the  more  chastened  and 
abased  sentiments  which  may  be  ex- 
pected in  a  man  prostrate  before  God, 
as  compared  with  the  same  man  harangu- 
ing his  fellow-men,  I  might  have  better 
ground  of  hope  for  those  contrite  ex- 
pressions, those  burdened  cadences, 
those  glowing  aspirations,  which  befit 
the  supplications  of  one  fallen  but  re- 
deemed. And  it  is  in  no  sense  deroga- 
tory to  the  blessed  Redeemer,  to  say, 
that  if  I  had  only  his  sermon-delivery  of 
his  prayer,  it  would  not,  of  itself,  have 
convinced  me  that  even  he  could  not 
have  given  a  more  admirable  form.  I 
might  have  felt,  and  without  violation  to 
the  awe  and  reverence  due  to  such  a 
being,  that  the  moment  when  I  should 
have  best  liked  to  hear  him  express 
himself  in  prayer,  was  not  the  moment 
of  his  upbraiding  the  hypocrites  who 
stood  "  in  the  corners  of  the  streets,"  or 
the  heathen  who  were  noted  for  their 
"  vain  repetitions." 

But  the  prayer  is  given  a  second  time, 
after  considerable  interval,  given  that  it 
may  serve  for  private  devotion  ;  given 
by  Christ,  not  when  addressing  a  multi- 
tude, but  when  just  risen  from  his  knees. 
Oh,  I  want  nothing  further  to  tell  me, 
that  the  Lord's  prayer  is  fuller  than 
human  need  can  exhaust,  humbler  than 
human  wofahlessness  can  sink,  higher 
than  human  piety  can  soar.  I  ask  no 
learned  commentary,  no  labored  exposi- 
tion ;  I  have  Christ's  own  testimony,  given 
exactly  when  that  testimony  has  the  great- 
est possible  power,  that  nothing  can  be 
added  to  the  prayer,  nothing  excogitated 
of  loftier,  intenser,  more  disinterested, 
and  yet  more  self-seeking  supplication, 
when  I  find  that  it  was   when  he  had 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


37 


been  "  praying  in  a  certain  place,"  and 
as  "  he  ceased  "  from  his*  prayer,  that 
he  re-delivered  the  same  form  to  his 
disciples,  and  in  answer  to  their  entreaty, 
**  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also 
taught  his  disciples." 

Now  you  will  all  feel  for  yourselves 
that  the  practical  point  involved  in  this 
express  and  striking  testimony  of  Christ 
to  the  fulness  of  his  prayer,  and  its  ap- 
propriateness to  all  persons,  places,  and 
seasons,  is,  that  there  must  be  something 
wrong  in  the  man  who  finds  the  Lord's 
prayer  insufficient  or  unsuitable.  We 
are  far  from  meaning  that  no  other  form 
of  prayer  should  be  used  :  the  mind  will 
often  wish,  will  often  need,  to  dwell  011 
some  one  particular  desire ;  and  though, 
beyond  question,  that  desire  has  expres- 
sion in  the  Lord's  prayer,  it  is  there  so 
condensed  that  he  who  would  be  impor- 
tunate at  the  mercy-seat  may  be  aided 
by  a  more  expanded  statement. 

But,  at  all  events,  enough  has  been 
adduced  to  prove  that  the  Lord's  prayer 
should  enter  largely  both  into  public  and 
private  devotion,  and  that,  though  it 
ought  not  to  supersede  every  other,  yet 
ought  no  other  to  be  a  substitute  for  it. 
And  if  we  had  but  a  minute  to  spend  in 
prayer,  what  but  the  Lord's  prayer 
should  occupy  that  minute  1  better  that 
we  gather  into  that  minute  ail  that  can 
be  asked  for  time  and  for  eternity,  than 
that  we  give  it  to  any  less  pregnant  ex- 
pression of  the  wants  and  desires  of  a 
christian.  But  examine  yourselves  in 
this  matter;  compare  your  own  sense 
of  the  sufficiency  of  the  Lord's  prayer 
with  the  remarkable  attestation  to  that 
sufficiency  which  we  have  found  given 
by  our  Savior  himself:  and  if  the  prayer 
still  seem  to  you  inadequate  ;  if,  in  short, 
you  feel  as  though  you  could  not  pray 
sufficiently,  if,  on  any  account,  you  were 
actually  limited  to  the  use  of  this  prayer, 
then  let  the  comparison  set  you  on  the 
searching  deeply  into  the  state  of  your 
hearts.  For,  surely,  he  has  reason  to 
fear  that  his  desires  should  be  checked 
rather  than  cherished,  his  wants  denied 
rather  than  declared,  who  can  find  no 
expression  for  them  in  petitions  which 
were  not  otdy  dictated  by  Christ,  but 
affirmed  by  him  to  comprehend  whatso- 
ever we  might  ask. 

But,  commending  this  to  your  serious 
meditation,  we  would,  in  conclusion, 
dwell  for   a  moment  on  the  reference 


made  by  the  disciples  to  the  instruction 
in  prayer  which  had  been  furnished  by 
the  Btt]>tist.  They  ask,  you  observe,  of 
Christ,  that  he  would  teach  them  to  pray 
"  as  John  also  taught  his  disciples." 
We  have  no  means  of  ascertaing  what 
form  of  prayer  had  been  given  by  the 
Baptist.  But  it  should  be  observed  that 
the  Jews'  daily  and  common  prayers, 
their  ordinary  and  occasional,  consisted 
chiefly  of  benedictions  and  doxologies; 
they  had,  indeed,  their  petitionary  or 
supplicatory  prayers;  but  these  were 
few  in  number,  and  less  copious.  Now 
it  seems  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
Baptist  taught  a  form  of  prayer  differing 
from  what  the  Jewish  forms  were  ;  he 
had  to  inculcate  other  doctrines  than 
those  to  which  the  people  were  used  ; 
and  it  can  hardly,  therefore,  be  doubted 
that  he  instructed  them  to  pray  in  a 
manner  more  accordant  with  the  new 
dispensation  which  he  was  commissioned 
to  announce  as  "at  hand."  If,  standing 
as  he  did  between  the  Law  and  the 
Gospel,  John  did  not  fully  unfold  the 
peculiar  truths  which  Christ  was  after- 
wards to  announce,  he  nevertheless  spake 
of  things,  the  attaining  which  supposed 
that  petitions  were  presented  unto  Cod 
— how  then  can  we  question  that  he 
taught  his  followers  to  pray  for  these 
things  1 

Hence,  the  probability,  at  least,  is, 
that  in  opposition  to  the  custom  of  the 
Jews,  whose  prayers  were  mostly  be- 
nedictory, John  gave  his  disciples  pray- 
ers which  were  chiefly  petitionary  ;  and 
that  when  our  Lord  was  asked  for  in- 
struction in  prayer,  similar  to  what  had 
been  afforded  by  the  Baptist,  the  thing 
sought  was  some  form  of  supplication, 
strictly  and  properly  so  called.  And 
this  agrees  excellently  with  the  answer 
of  our  Lord  ;  for  by  omitting  the  dox- 
ology  with  which  he  had  concluded  his 
prayer  on  the  first  delivery,  he  gave  a 
form  of  devotion  which  was  purely 
petitionary. 

But  the  disciples  of  Christ  may  not 
have  referred  to  the  particular  character 
of  the  form  of  prayer  given  by  John,  but 
only  to  the  fact,  that  the  Baptist  had 
furnished  his  followers  with  some  form 
or  another.  And  then  there  is  something 
very  interesting  in  their  request,  as 
grounding  itself  on  what  had  been  done 
by  a  teacher  of  far  less  authority  and 
wisdom  than  their  own.     It  was  as  much 


88 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


;is  to  say.  even  "  the  voice  of  one  crying 
in  the  wilderness"  gave  lessons  in 
prayer;  and  shall  not  the  voice  of  Him 
of  whom  that  stern  voice  was  the  har- 
binger, instrucl  us  how  to  approach  the 
Lard  of  the  whole  earth  I  The  disciples 
of  the  forerunner  had  the  privilege  of 
hearing  from  him  what,  petitions  should 
be  ofiered — shall  not  the  disciples  of  the 
,  enjoy  a  similar  privilege,  though 
greater  in  proportion  as  he  is  greater 
than  bis  messenger  I 

There  is  then  an  argument,  so  to  speak, 
from  the  instruction  afforded  by  the  in- 
ferior teacher,  to  that  which  may  be  ex- 
peeled,  or  hoped  for,  from  the  superior. 
And  it  is  an  argument  of  which  we  may 
legitimately  make  use,  whether  as  pledg- 
ing God  to  give,  or  emboldening  us  to 
ask.  We  mayrightly  reason  that,  if  the 
disciples  of  the  lower  master  have  been 
favored  with  a  lesson,  the  disciples  of  the 
higher  will  not  be  left  uninstructed. 
We  may  rightly  reason,  yea,  we  may 
present  ourselves  before  our  Savior  with 
the  reasoning  on  our  lips,  that  if,  not  only 
the  disciples  of  the  Baptist,  but  the  disci- 
ples also  of  natural  religion,  have  been 
taught  to  pray,  the  disciples  of  the  Christ 


shall  be  yet  more  deeply  and  powerfully 
schooled. 

We  have  sat,  as  it  were,  at  the  feet  of 
nature ;  and  in  her  every  work  and  her 
every  gesture,  in  her  silences  and  in  her 
utterances,  she  has  bidden  us  wait  upon 
God,  and  seek  at  his  hands  the  supply 
of  our  wants.  There  is  nothing  on  which 
creation  is  more  eloquent,  nothing  more 
syllabled  by  the  animate  and  the  inani- 
mate, by  the  music  of  its  mighty  move- 
ments, the  rush  of  its  forces,  the  lowing 
of  its  herds,  than  that  all  things  hang  on 

i  the  universal  Parent,  and  that  his  ear  is 
open  to  the  universal  petition.  And  if 
even  nature  do  thus  instruct  us  to  pray, 

|  what  may  we  not  expect  from  the  Lord 
our  Redeemer  ]  We  will  approach  him, 
encouraged  by  the  tuition  of  a  prophet, 

[  which  is,  at  best,  but  his  messenger  or 
herald.  We  will  say  to  hirr.,  Even  the 
stars,  the  forests,  and  the  mountains,  the 
works  of  thine  Almighty  hands,  bid  us 
bow  the  knee,  and  supplicate  the  invisi- 
ble God.  But  we  need  a  higher,  a  more 
spiritual,  lesson.  Lord,  do  Thou  teach 
us  to  pray,  seeing  that  even  nature  hatb 
taught  her  disciples. 


SERMON   X 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN    THE  COASTS  OF 
DECAPOLIS. 


"  And  he  took  him  aside  from  the  multitude,  and  port  his  finjers  into  his  cars,  and  he  spit,  and  touched  his  tongue, 
and  looking  up  to  heaven,  he  sighed,  and  said  unto  him,  Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened." — Mark  vii.  33,  34. 


We  do  not  bi  hjct  the  succeeding  verse  I  his    speech; 
into  our  text.     You  know  that  the  words  ;  Lord' 


which  we  have  read  to  you  relate  to  the 
Lord  our  Redeemer;  and  you  need  not 
be  told,  that,  with  him,  to  attempt  was 
to  accomplish  a  miracle.  The  subject 
of  the  present  miracle  was  "one  that 
was    deaf  and    had    an   impediment    in 


and 
mand.    ' 


result    of   our 
iphatha,"    was, 


that  "  straightway  his  ears  were  opened, 
and  the  strings  of  his  tongue  loosed,  and 
he  spake  plain." 

The  miracles  of  our  Lord  were  as 
diversified  as  are  human  wants  and  in- 
firmities :  what  sorrow  was  there  for  the 


PECULIARITIES   IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN   THE   COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


80 


eoothing  of  winch,  what  sickness  for  the 
healing  of  which,  he  did  not  employ  his 
supernatural  powers  1  But  the  miracles 
were  diversified,  not  only  as  to  the  things 
done,  but  as  to  the  manner  also  in  which 
they  were  done  :  sometimes,  indeed  for 
the  most  part,  our  Lord  only  spake  the 
word  or  laid  his  hand  on  the  suffering ; 
at  other  times,  virtue  went  out  from  him, 
when  touched  by  the  afflicted  ;  and  in 
some  few  instances,  amongst  which  is 
that  recorded  in  the  text,  he  employed 
outward  signs.,  though  not  such  as  could 
have  possessed  any  natural  efficacy. 

We  doubt  not  that  many  useful  lessons 
might  be  drawn  from  the  different  modes 
wherein  Christ  thus  displayed  his  mira- 
culous power.  Considering  miracles  as 
parables,  figurative  exhibitions  of  the 
doctrines,  as  well  as  forcible  evidences 
of  the  divine  origin,  of  Christianity,  we 
may  believe  that  they  are  not  void  of  in- 
struction in  the  minutest  of  their  circum- 
stances, but  furnish  in  every  particular, 
something  on  which  the  christian  may 
meditate  with  advantage.  Neither  is 
this  true  only  when  you  assign  a  para- 
bolic character  to  the  miracles  of  our 
Lord  :  setting  aside  the  parabolic  char- 
acter, and  observing  merely  how  differ- 
ence in  mode  was  adapted  to  difference 
in  circumstances,  you  will  often  find  oc- 
casion to  admire  a  display  of  wisdom  and 
benevolence,  to  confess  the  narrative 
profitable,  not  only  as  adding  another 
testimony  to  the  divine  power  of  Christ, 
but  as  showing  how  he  sought  to  make 
that  power  subserve  his  great  design  of 
bringing  sinners  to  faith  in  himself. 

We  shall  find  this  exemplified  as  we 
proceed  with  the  examination  of  the  nar- 
rative which  we  have  taken  as  our  sub- 
ject of  discourse.  Our  foregoing  obser- 
vations will  have  prepared  you  for  our 
not  insisting  on  the  display  of  divine 
power,  but  engaging  you  with  the  pe- 
culiarities which  attended  the  display — 
peculiarities  from  which  we  shall  endea- 
vor to  extract  evidences  of  Christ's  good- 
ness, and  lessons  for  ourselves.  With 
this  purpose  in  view,  let  us  go  straight- 
way to  the  scene  presented  by  the 
Evangelist:  let  us  follow  the  Redeemer 
as  he  takes  the  deaf  man  aside  from  the 
multitude,  and  let  us  observe,  with  the 
attentiveness  due  to  the  actions  of  One 
who  did  "all  things  well,"  the  course 
which  he  adopts  in  unstopping  his  ears 
and  loosening  his  tongue. 
Vol.  II. 


Now  you  must  all  he  aware,  that,  in 
order  to  constitute  a  miracle,  properly  so 
called,  there  must  be  the  absence  of  alt 
instrumentality  which  is  naturally  adapt- 
ed to  produce  the  result.  Sickness  may 
be  removed  by  the  application  of  reme- 
dies ;  but  he  who  applies  them  is  never 
regarded  as  working  a  miracle  ;  he  may, 
indeed,  excite  surprise  by  using  means 
which  shall  be  rapidly  effectual  in  a  case 
which  had  been  thought  desperate,  but, 
whatever  the  tribute  paid  to  his  science 
and  skill,  the  whole  virtue  is  assumed  to 
lie  in  the  remedies  employed  ;  and  no 
one  imagines,  when  looking  on  the  re- 
covered individual,  that  there  has  been 
any  thing  approaching  to  the  exercise  of 
supernatural  power.  But  if  the  applied 
remedies  were  such  as  had  evidently  no 
tendency  to  the  effecting  a  cure,  you 
would  begin  to  suspect  something  of 
miraculous  agency  ;  and  yet  further,  if 
no  remedies  whatsoever  were  used,  if  the 
sickness  departed  at  the  mere  bidding 
of  the  physician,  you  would  be  almost 
sure  that  God  had  distinctly  and  un- 
usually interfered — interfered  so  as  to 
suspend  the  known  laws  which  ordinarily 
determine  his  workings.  So  long,  per- 
haps, as  any  remedy  appeared  to  be  ap- 
plied, you  would  be  scrupulous  as  to  ad- 
mitting a  miracle ;  the  remedy  might, 
indeed,  seem  quite  unsuited  to  the  end 
for  which  it  was  employed,  not  possess- 
ing any  known  virtue  for  removing  the 
disease ;  but  still  it  might  possess  pro- 
perties not  before  ascertained ;  and  it  is 
easier,  and  perhaps  juster,  to  conclude 
the  sickness  overcome  through  some  un- 
suspected energy  in  the  visible  means, 
than  through  some  invisible  power  alto- 
gether unconnected  with  those  means. 

Hence  it  is  a  necessary  criterion  in  the 
determining  a  miracle,  that  it  be  altoge- 
ther independent  on  second  causes,  and 
therefore  be  performed  without  any 
natural  instrument.  And  this  is  a  crite- 
rion to  which  the  miracles  of  our  Lord 
may  safely  be  brought :  it  was  only  on 
one  or  two  occasions  that  any  thing  ex- 
ternal was  employed,  and  even  on  these 
it  could  not  be  suspected  that  means 
were  applied  in  which  any  virtue  dwelt. 
The  most  remarkable  of  such  occasions 
was  that  of  the  healing  of  the  man  who 
had  been  born  blind  :  our  Lord  "  spat 
upon  the  ground,  and  made  clay  of  the 
spittle,  and  he  anointed  the  eyes  of  the 
blind  man  with  the  clay,  and  said  unto 
12 


90 


PECULIARITIES  IX  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS   OP  DECAPOLIS. 


him,  Go,  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam." 
Here  there  was  a  great  deal  of  prepara- 
tion :  and  had  not  the  case  been  that  of 
blindness  from  the  birth,  which  was  ac- 
aecounted  incurable  through  any  natural 
mean-,  it  might  have  been  suspected  that 
Christ  had  applied  some  powerful  oint- 
ment, which,  left  for  a  time  on  the  de- 
fective organ,  and  then  washed  off, 
would  effect,  as  he  had  discovered,  a 
radical  cure.  Even  in  this  case,  how- 
ever, it  never  seems  to  have  occurred  to 
the  Jews,  that  the  thing  which  had  been 
wrought  might  not  have  been  actually 
supernatural:  the  whole  process  was  ac- 
curately reported  to  the  Pharisees;  but, 
though  they  were  most  eager  to  disprove 
or  depreciate  the  cure,  they  never 
thought  of  ascribing  any  virtue  to  the 
clay  ;  it  was  manifestly  so  void  of  all 
natural  efficacy  for  the  restoration  of 
sight,  that  they  treated  the  cure  as 
wrought  by  a  word,  without  even  the 
apparent  enployment  of  any  second 
cause. 

Nevertheless,  we  may  safely  admit, 
that,  had  our  Lord  always  acted  in  this 
manner,  had  he  never  performed  a  mi- 
racle without  using  some  outward  in- 
strumentality, there  might  have  been 
room  for  suspecting  that  a  connection 
existed  between  the  instrumentality  and 
the  result,  and  that,  therefore,  it  was  not 
necessarily  beyond  a  doubt,  that  miracle 
had  been  actually  wrought.  There 
can,  however,  be  no  place  for  such  a 
suspicion,  inasmuch  as  the  occasions  were 
very  rare  on  which  our  Lord  did  more 
than  speak  that  wind  which  was  always 
"with  power."  13 ut  we  are  bound  to 
consider  whether,  in  the  few  cases  where 
external  application  was  employed,  there 
was  not  some  reason  for  the  seeming 
departure  from  a  rule  which  may  be 
said  to  have  been  prescribed  by  the  very 
nature  of  miracle.  If  we  find  this  reason 
m  any  one  case,  it  may,  probably,  be 
extended  to  all;  and  we  shall  therefore 
confine  ourselves  to  the  instance  pre- 
sented by  our  subject  of  discourse. 

Here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  blind  man, 
there  was  an  external  appliance,  though 
not  equally  calculated  to  suggest  doubt 
as  to  the  actualness  of  the  miracle.  Our 
Lord  put  his  fingers  into  the  man's  ears, 
and  then  spat  and  touched  his  tongue. 
It  could  hardly  be  imagined,  by  the  most 
suspicious  or  incredulous  of  beings,  that 
there  was  any  natural   connection   be- 


tween what  our  Lord  thus  did,  and  the 
effect  which  was  produced ;  and  that, 
consequently,  Christ  was  nothing  but  & 
skilful  physician,  acquainted  with  reme- 
dies which  had  not  yet  been  discovered 
by  others  of  his  race.  If  there  were  any 
virtue  in  the  action  used  by  Christ,  it 
was  manifestly  a  virtue  derived  alto- 
gether from  his  superhuman  character: 
allowing  that  there  was  power  in  his 
touch,  it  could  only  have  been  from  the 
same  reason  that  there  was  power  in  his 
word  :  the  finger  was  "the  finger  of 
God,"  even  as  the  voice  was  that  which 
had  spoken  all  things  into  being. 

Yet  it  could  not  have  been  without 
any  meaning,  though  it  may  have  been 
without  any  efficaciousness  to  the  healing 
of  disease,  that  Christ  employed  these 
outward  signs  :  some  purpose  must  have 
been  subserved,  forasmuch  as  we  may 
be  sure  that  there  was  never  any  thing 
useless  or  superfluous  in  the  actions  of 
our  Lord.  And  the  reason  why  Christ 
thus  touched  the  defective  organs,  before 
uttering  the  word  which  was  to  speak 
them  into  health,  may  be  found,  as  is 
generally  allowed,  in  the  circumstances 
of  the  man  on  whom  the  miracle  was 
about  to  be  wrought.  This  man,  you 
will  observe,  does  not  seem  to  have  come 
to  Christ  of  his  own  accord  :  it  is  ex- 
pressly stated,  "  And  they  bring  unto 
him  one  that  was  deaf  and  had  an  im- 
pediment in  his  speech,  and  they  beseech 
him  to  put  his  hand  upon  him."  The 
whole  was  done  by  the  relatives  or  friends 
of  the  afflicted  individual  :  for  any  tiling 
that  appears  to  the  contrary,  he  himself 
may  have  had  no  knowledge  of  Jesus  ; 
and,  indeed,  since  his  condition  disquali- 
fied him  for  holding  any  conversation,  it 
is  likely  that  he  was  in  a  great  degree 
ignorant  of  the  Prophet  that  had  arisen 
in  the  land. 

But  this  very  fact  rendered  it  impoi*- 
tant  that  means  should  be  taken  to  ac- 
quaint him  thoroughly  with  the  persot, 
that  effected  his  cure,  not  oidy  in  order 
to  his  own  satisfaction,  but  to  qualify 
him  to  bear  witness  in  favor  of  Christ. 
And  it  is  easily  seen  that  what  our  Lord 
did  was  exactly  adapted  to  such  a  pur- 
pose as  this.  He  took  him  aside  from 
the  multitude,  because  his  attention  was 
likely  to  be  distracted  by  the  crowd,  and 
Christ  wished  to  fix  it  on  himself  as  the 
author  of  his  cure.  Had  he  healed  him 
immediately,   and   in   the  midst  of  the 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


91 


throng,  the  man  might  have  had  no  dis- 
tinct impression  as  to  who  had  been  his 
benefactor.  Therefore  was  he  separated 
from  the  throng  ;  and  therefore,  yet 
further,  when  separated,  was  he  ad- 
dressed by  Christ  through  those  senses 
which  remained  unimpaired  :  through 
sight  and  through  touch.  Christ  could 
not  speak  to  him,  as  was  his  ordinary 
wont,  and  demand  from  him  a  confession 
of  faith  in  his  power  to  heal  :  the  man 
was  deaf,  so  that  no  question  could  be 
put  to  him,  and  he  had  an  impediment  in 
his  speech  which  would  have  prevented 
his  replying.  But  he  could  see,  and 
could  feel  what  Christ  did  ;  and  there- 
fore our  Lord  supplied  the  place  of 
speech,  by  touching  the  tongue  and  put- 
ting his  fingers  into  the  ears — for  this 
was  virtually  saying  that  he  was  about 
to  act  on  those  organs — and,  by  looking 
up  to  heaven,  for  this  was  informing  the 
deaf  man  that  the  healing  power  must 
come  from  above. 

The  whole  action  would  seem  to  have 
been  symbolical,  and  accurately  suited 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  Trans- 
late the  action  into  words,  and  what  have 
we  but  such  sayings  as  these  ?  "  I  have 
taken  thee  aside  from  the  multitude, 
that  thou  mightest  observe  and  remem- 
ber who  it  is  to  whom  thou  hast  been 
brought.  Thine  organs  are  imperfect: 
here  are  members  of  thy  body,  which 
are  useless  to  the  ends  for  which  they 
were  given,  and  I  am  about  to  act  on 
them  with  a  power  which  shall  supply 
all  defects.  Yet  I  would  have  thee 
know  that  this  power  is  but  a  credential 
of  my  having  come  forth  from  God,  and 
should  produce  in  thee  belief  of  my  pro- 
phetical character.  Behold,  therefore: 
I  lift  my  eyes  unto  heaven,  whilst  I  utter 
the  word  which  shall  give  thee  hearing 
and  speech." 

Such,  we  say,  was  virtually  the  address 
of  our  Lord  to  the  man  on  whom  he 
was  about  to  operate  with  supernatural 
power;  not  an  address  in  language, 
which  was  precluded  by  the  peculiarities 
of  the  case,  but  in  significative,  symboli- 
cal action,  which  is  often  to  the  full  as 
expressive  as  words.  And,  therefore,  it 
was  not  without  a  great  design  and  an 
important  meaning  that  our  Lord  de- 
parted from  his  ordinary  rule,  and  ran, 
as  it  might  have  seemed,  the  risk  of 
bringing  the  miracle  into  question,  by 
the  privacy  in  which  he  wrought  it  and 


the  external  agency  of  which  he  made 
use.  How  easily  might  it  have  been 
said  that  he  took  the  man  aside  from  the 
multitude,  because  what  he  was  about  to 
do  would  not  bear  being  inspected,  but 
involved  some  deception  which  could 
succeed  only  in  a  corner.  And  if  suspi- 
cion had  been  excited  by  his  thus  re- 
quiring a  retired  place  for  the  perform- 
ance of  the  cure,  how  might  that  suspi 
cion  have  been  confirmed,  when  the  mai. 
came  to  tell  in  what  way  he  had  been 
healed  ]  ','  See,"  the  people  might  have 
said,  "  there  was  no  miracle  at  all ;  he 
applied  certain  remedies,  and  he  would 
not  suffer  us  to  be  near,  lest  we  should 
discover  his  secret." 

But  Christ  could  venture  to  brave  all 
this  risk  :  his  miraculous  power  was  too 
well  established  to  be  treated  as  a  trick. 
Some  there  were  who  blasphemously 
ascribed  it  to  Satan  ;  but  none,  as  it 
would  seem,  had  the  hardihood  to  deny 
its  existence.  Yet  even  the  appearance 
of  place  for  suspicion  would  not  have 
been  given,  without  sufficient  cause,  by 
one  who  was  anxious  to  leave  no  possi- 
ble excuse  for  the  doubting  whether  or 
not  he  were  the  promised  Messiah.  And 
the  sufficient  cause  is  found  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case.  It  did  not  con- 
tent the  Redeemer  to  heal  bodily  infir- 
mities ;  he  sought  to  reach  the  inward 
man  through  what  he  did  for  the  out- 
ward. If  he  gave  the  power  of  hearing 
and  of  speaking,  he  longed  that  the  un- 
stopped ear  might  hearken  to  the  Gospel, 
and  the  loosened  tongue  be  employed 
on  the  high  praises  of  God.  But,  in 
order  to  such  ends,  it  was  indispensable 
that  the  man  should  know  Jesus  as  his 
benefactor,  and  be  persuaded  that  the 
power,  exerted  on  his  behalf,  was  wholly 
from  above.  But  how  shall  he  be  in- 
structed in  such  particulars  1  He  is 
shut  up  in  that  desolation  and  loneliness, 
which  a  closed  ear  and  a  fastened  tongue 
necessarily  produce,  and  is  not  accessible 
through  the  avenues  by  which  informa- 
tion is  commonly  conveyed.  I  will 
speak  to  him,  the  Redeemer  seems  to 
say,  through  the  senses  which  have  been 
spared  to  him  :  sight  and  touch  shall  be 
instrumental  to  the  carrying  of  truth  into 
his  yet  darkened  soul.  O  blessed  Savior, 
how  great  was  thy  condescension,  how 
unwearied  thine  endeavor  to  do  good  to 
sinners  !  As  when  thou  wouldest  teach 
thy  disciples  humility,  thou  didst  set  a 


93 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OP  DECAPOLIS. 


little  child  in  the  midst  of  them  ;  and 
when  thou  wouldesl  warn  them  of  the 
peril  of  unfruitful!) ess,  thou  didst  cause 
the   blighted    fig-tree   to   .stand   in  their 

path — so  now  didst  thou  graciously  in- 
struct by  significative  anion;  and  I  .see 
nothing  but  the  merciful,  the  compas- 
sionate, the  patienl  Redeemer,  bent  on 
doing  good,  on  instructing  and  blessing 
the  unworthiest,  when  1  see  our  Lord 
taking  the  deaf  man  aside  from  the  mul- 
titude, and  putting  Ins  fingers  into  his 
ears,  and  touching  his  tongue,  and  look- 
ing up  to  heaven. 

But  we  have  probably  said  enough 
in  explanation  of  our  Lord's  having 
apparently  made  use  of  external  instru- 
mentality in  effecting  the  miracle  which 
is  under  review.  We  now  wish  to  lead 
you  to  a  wholly  different  topic:  we 
would  have  it  observed  whether  the  pos- 
session of  miraculous  power  did  not 
operate  upon  Christ  in  a  manner  unlike 
that  in  which  it  would,  most  probably, 
operate  on  ourselves.  We  will  not  ex- 
amine whether,  if  any  one  of  us  were 
gifted  with  the  ability  of  doing  marvel- 
lous things,  he  would  not  be  likely  to 
covet  occasions  of  display,  to  delight  in 
opportunities  of  manifesting  the  energy, 
when  it  would  excite  most  amazement, 
and  be  hailed  with  the  plaudits  of  a 
thousand  spectators.  Certainly,  it  were 
hardly  to  exaggerate  that  corruption 
which  adheres  to  the  best  of  the  chil- 
dren of  men,  to  say  that  the  temptation 
would  be  found  very  strong  of  exerting 
miraculous  power  in  an  ostentatious 
mode,  employing  it  to  purposes  which 
might  astonish  by  their  strangeness,  and 
before  multitudes  whose  applauses  might 
be  thereby  secured.  And,  just  as  cer- 
tainly, their  can  be  nothing  further  re- 
moved from  ostentation,  than  our  Lord's 
use  of  those  wonder-working  powers 
with  which  he  was  endowed.  His  mir- 
acles were  always  remarkable  for  simpli- 
city, for  the  absence  of  every  appear- 
ance of  pompous  exhibition:  he  never 
wrought  a  marvel  but  when  there  was 
good  to  be  done  ;  and,  in  his  bands,  su- 
perhuman might  was  manifestly  conse- 
crated to  the  benefiting  others,  and  not 
to  the  magnifying  himself. 

But  let  us  admit  that  miraculous  pow- 
er might  be  possessed  by  one  of  our- 
selves, and  that, along  with  it,  there  might 
be  such  measures  of  grace  as  would 
prevent  any  thing  of  pride  or  ostenta- 


tion in  its  use.  We  may  still  find  some- 
thing to  distinguish  this  man  of  super- 
human energy  from  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  In  order  to  this,  let  us  ask  any 
one  of  you,  whether  the  inability  to  re- 
lieve misery  be  not  almost  as  distress- 
ing as  that  misery  itself]  If  I  found 
one  of  my  fellow-creatures  dying  from 
want,  what  wretchedness  should  I  en- 
dure if  I  were  absolutely  destitute  of  all 
power  of  procuring  him  food  !  Where- 
as, on  the  other  hand,  with  what  un- 
mingled  gladness  should  I  hasten  to  his 
dwelling,  if  I  carried  with  me  the  means 
of  supplying  his  necessities,  if  I  had  on- 
ly to  open  the  door,  and  plenty  would 
flow  into  the  dreary  abode  !  I  do  not 
think  that  I  could  be  sad  at  such  a  mo- 
ment. My  own  cares  might  be  many, 
my  own  grievances  heavy  j  but  that  I 
could  communicate  happiness,  would  for 
the  time  make  me  happy ;  and  the  eye 
would  be  bright,  and  the  voice  would 
be  joyous,  as  I  said  to  the  sufferer  "  Be 
of  good  cheer." 

The  like  may  especially  be  affirmed 
in  regard  of  any  case  of  sickness.  How 
melancholy  is  it  to  stand  over  the  bed 
of  one  writhing  in  pain,  and  to  feel  that 
the  best  which  the  best  affection  can  do, 
is  to  weep  and  to  pray ;  so  utterly  be- 
yond all  known  remedies  or  assuage- 
ments is  the  malady  whose  victim  is 
before  us  !  O  for  the  power  of  working 
a  miracle  !  With  what  alacrity,  what 
exultation,  would  any  one  of  us  com- 
mand the  disease  to  depart,  if  there 
were  such  energy  in  his  word  that  it 
could  suspend  nature's  laws.  I  am  sure 
that  there  is  not  one  of  you,  who,  if  he 
possessed  the  power,  and  heard  of  a  fel- 
low creature  in  terrible  anguish,  would 
not  rush  to  the  side  of  the  sufferer,  eager 
to  employ  the  power  on  his  own  behalf, 
and  enraptured  with  the  thought  of  being 
able  to  relieve.  Or,  if  the  case  were  not 
one  of  acute  pain,  but  only  of  defect  in 
some  bodily  organ,  with  what  pure,  what 
unmixed  satisfaction,  should  we  exert 
ourselves  on  supplying  what  nature  had 
denied. 

There  is  something  wonderfully  in- 
teresting, but,  at  the  same  time,  distress- 
ing, in  the  visiting  the  asylums  which 
have  been  reared  for  the  reception  of 
the  blind  or  the  dumb.  It  is  marvel- 
lous to  observe  what  mental  and  moral 
progress  may  be  made  in  spite  of  the 
deficiency  ;  how  the  senses,  which  are 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


93 


possessed,  may  be  available  to  the  very 
offices  of  those  which  are  wanting,  so 
that  the  blind  child  shall  read  the  Bible 
with  its  fingers,  and  the  dumb  communi- 
cate in  writing  all  that  passes  in  its 
spirit.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  call  it  the 
finest  exercise  of  a  power,  which  is  only 
just  short  of  supernatural,  that,  when 
the  eye  refuses  to  collect  the  rays  from 
the  material  creation,  the  hand  can  be 
instructed  to  gather  in  all  the  beauty 
and  magnificence  of  that  spiritual  land- 
scape which  God  hath  developed  in  the 
pages  of  his  word  ;  and  that  upon  the 
soul,  which  seemed  devoted  to  everlast- 
ing midnight,  because  not  accessible 
through  the  medium  of  speech,  there  is 
poured,  through  the  eye,  all  that  mighty 
illumination  which  hath  flashed,  in  these 
last  days,  from  "  the  Father  of  lights." 
But,  with  every  confession  of  the 
wonderfulness  and  beauty  of  the  spec- 
tacle presented  by  an  asylum  whether 
for  the  blind  or  the  dumb,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  there  is  something  dis- 
tressing in  the  sight  of  numbers  who 
never  looked  on  the  glory  of  the  hea- 
vens, or  never  drank  in  the  melody  of 
speech.  Which  of  you,  then,  would  not 
feel  himself  a  happy  man,  if  suddenly 
invested  with  the  power  of  bidding  the 
blind  behold  the  human  face,  and  the 
dumb  hear  and  use  the  human  voice  ] 
We  should  all  perhaps  be  ready  to 
charge  the  possessor  of  such  a  power 
with  something  worse  than  stoicism, 
with  a  hardness  of  heart  which  made  it 
strange  that  God  should  have  endowed 
with  so  signal  a  gift,  if  he  did  not  mani- 
fest the  greatest  alacrity  in  bestowing 
sight  on  the  darkened  eye-ball,  and  un- 
chaining the  speechless  tongue  ;  or  if, 
when  exercising  his  power,  he  did  not 
show  that  to  exercise  it  was  a  source  of 
the  intensest  delight.  And  yet,  my 
brethren,  it  does  not  appear — at  least, 
not  always— to  have  been  with  a  feeling 
of  pleasure  that  our  blessed  Lord  re- 
lieved the  woes  to  which  flesh  is  heir. 
Oh,  it  is  a  strange  contrast  between  the 
scene  presented  by  our  text  and  what 
probably  would  be  the  scene,  if  any 
amongst  ourselves  had  the  power  of 
healing  the  deaf  and  the  dumb.  It  shall 
be  to  one  of  you  that  this  poor  man  is 
brought  by  anxious  and  supplicating 
friends.  One  of  you  shall  be  reputed 
able  to  unstop  his  ears  and  loosen  his 
tongue  ;  and  therefore  shall  they,  who 


are  eager  for  his  cure,  come  to  you  im- 
plorinly.  It  is  no  false  rumor  ;  you  have 
the  power  ;  you  are  ready  to  exercise  it. 
I  see  you  rejoice  in  the  opportunity; 
you  can  hardly  speak  the  healing  word 
for  gladness  at  being  able  to  confer  so 
great  a  boon.  Yes ;  this  is  natural,  this 
would  almost  seem  unavoidable ;  and 
yet,  oh  wonderful,  it  was  not  thus  that 
our  Redeemer  did  good.  He  manifest- 
ed no  feeling  of  pleasure.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  might  have  thought  it  a  pain 
to  him  to  relieve  misery ;  for  the  narra- 
tive tells  us,  that,  at  the  instant  of  giving 
utterance  to  the  omnipotent  word,  he 
showed  signs  as  of  a  burdened  and  dis- 
quieted spirit :  "  He  sighed  " — not,  he 
smiled;  not,  he  rejoiced — but  "He 
sighed,  and  saith  unto  him,  Ephphatha, 
that  is,  Be  opened." 

Now  we  really  do  not  know  a  more 
affecting  testimony  to  the  fact,  that  our 
Lord  was  "  a  man  of  sorrow,  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief,"  than  is  thus  fur- 
nished by  his  sighing  at  the  moment  of 
working  a  benevolent  miracle.  If  ever 
he  experienced  gladness  of  spirit,  you 
would  think  that  it  must  have  been  when 
communicating  happiness  —  yet  even 
then  "  He  sighed."  He  sighed  in  the 
act  of  blessing,  as  though  the  boon  were 
wrung  from  him,  and  he  would  rather 
have  denied  it.  Neither  is  this  a  solitary 
instance  of  Christ's  manifestation  of 
grief  when  engaged  in  giving  pleasure. 
We  have  often  had  occasion  to  point  out 
to  you  that  the  tears,  which  he  wept  at 
the  grave  of  Lazarus,  were  not  tears  for 
the  dead.  There  is  no  necessity,  in  or- 
der to  the  establishing  the  comforting 
truth  of  Christ's  perfect  humanity,  and 
of  his  sympathy  with  our  griefs,  that  we 
should  suppose  him  weeping  at  the 
grave  of  his  friend,  as  any  one  of  us 
might  weep  over  a  kinsman  or  child. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  argument  for  Christ's 
fellow-feeling  with  the  bereaved,  in  the 
tears  of  which  the  bereaved  so  often 
make  mention  ;  for  there  is  not  one  of 
us  who  could  bewail  the  dead,  if  he  were 
under  the  precise  circumstances  of 
Christ;  and  therefore  the  Mediator's 
tears  can  be  no  evidence  of  that  which, 
blessed  be  his  name,  is  incontestably 
established  from  other  proofs,  his  tho- 
rough sympathy  with  the  mourning. 
Send  any  one  of  you  to  the  grave  where 
a  dear  friend  lies  buried — send  him  with 
the  power,  and  for  the  purpose,  of  re- 


01 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


animating  that  friend — and  he  could  not 
weep  as  he  went;  at  least,  if  he  wept, 
they  would  be  tears  of  joy  which  he 
shed;  for  pleasure,  like  pain,  can  force 
drops  from  eyes  which  have  been  dark- 
ened by  Bin.  But  the  tears  of  Christ 
were  nol  tears  of  joy;  for  we  read  not 
only  thai  he  wept,  but  that  "He  groan- 
ed in  the  spirit,  and  was  troubled;"  and 
thai  "again  groaning  in  himself,  he 
came  to  the  grave."  Hence  there  is  no 
parrying  the  conclusion,  that  our  bless- 
ed Savior  was  unhappy  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  you  would  most  have  ex- 
pected  him  to  be  happy,  because  on  the 
point  of  making  others  happy;  whilst 
all  our  foregoing  statements,  as  to  the 
pleasuve  which  would  be  felt  by  any 
one  of  ourselves  in  the  exercises  of 
supernatural  power,  are  only  the  more 
forcible,  if  the  occasion  of  that  exercise 
might  bear  any  resemblance  to  the  rais- 
ing of  Lazarus. 

It  is,  therefore,  no  undue  inference 
from  the  circumstance  of  Christ's  sighing 
at  the  instant  of  working  the  miracle  be- 
fore us,  when  we  take  it  in  evidence  of 
a  depression  of  spirit  which  would  not 
give  way  before  even  that  most  happy- 
making  thing,  the  making  others  happy. 
And  again  must  we  state  that  of  all  the 
incidental  proofs — proofs  not  the  less 
conclusive  because  easily  overlooked — 
of  our  Lord's  having  been  "  a  man  of 
sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief,"  there 
is,  perhaps,  in  me  of  a  more  touching  or 
plaintive  character  than  is  thus  furnished 
by  our  text.  I  Fndoubtedly  we  vastly  un- 
derrate the  sufferings  of  the  Savior,  when 
we  confine  them  to  scenes  where  perse- 
cution was  open,  and  anguish  apparent. 
Just  because  there  is  little  said  of  what 
Jesus  endured  until  we  reach  the  dread 
things  of  G-ethsemane  and  Calvary,  it 
were  strange,  it  were  sinful,  to  conclude 
that  he  was  not.  heavily  oppressed  through 
the  whole  of  Ins  life.  When  an  apostle 
bids  us  "consider  him  that  endured  such 
contradiction  of  sinners  against  himself" 
— thus  making  "the  contradiction  of  sin- 
ners," which  was  not  the  thing  of  a  mo- 
ment,  but  of  his  every  day,  from  first  to 
last,  the  description  of  his  endurances — 
he  may  be  said  to  assert  that  suffering 
w  i  ins  unmingled  portion,  as  though, 
with  one  of  old,  his  own  illustrious  type, 
he  might  pathetically  have  said,  "My 
tear  have  been  my  meat  day  and  night." 
And  we  may  not  question  that  such  was 


his  portion.  He  was  a  sacrifice  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave  ;  every  instant,  be- 
cause an  instant  of  humiliation  and  en- 
durance, added  something  to  the  mys- 
terious and  mighty  oblation.  How  could 
it  have  been  otherwise  ?  for  having 
come  "  unto  his  own,"  and  being  reject- 
by  "  his  own,"  living  in  the  midst  of 
"a  wicked  and  adulterous  generation," 
which  he  vainly  strove  to  save  from  de- 
struction, there  must  continually  have 
been  a  pressure  on  his  innocent  spirit,  a 
pressure  all  the  more  intense,  because 
not  betrayed  by  any  outward  sign. 

The  expression  "acquainted  with 
grief"  is  wonderfully  touching,  and  per- 
haps singularly  accurate.  Grief  was,  as 
it  were,  his  bosom  friend  ;  it  had  made 
way  into  his  breast,  and  there  set  up  its 
home.  His  was  not  an  occasional  meet- 
ing with  grief;  it  was  acquaintance,  a 
deep,  dark,  bitter  familiarity.  Oh,  when 
you  call  Christ's  afflictions  to  mind,  af- 
flictions endured  "for  us  men  and  for 
our  salvation,"  then  think  not  only  of  the 
garden  and  the  cross ;  consider  him  as 
having  been  incessantly,  as  well  as  in- 
tensely, disquieted — momentarily  on  the 
cross,  whence  divine  justice  sought  the 
penalties  which  ourselves  had  deserved. 
And  if  you  want  evidence  of  this  con- 
tinuousness  of  sorrow,  the  inconsiderable 
incident — inconsiderable  only  in  that  you 
might  read  it  a  hundred  times  and  hard- 
ly pause  to  observe  it — the  inconsider- 
able incident  mentioned  in  our  text 
might  suffice  as  a  proof.  What  so  grat- 
ifying a  thing  as  the  being  able  to  do 
good  ]  when  can  a  good  man  feel  so 
happy  as  in  communicating  happiness  ? 
If  Christ  were  not  gladdened  in  making 
others  glad,  when  could  he  have  been 
joyful  %  And,  nevertheless,  he  was  not 
then  gladdened;  it  was  then  that  "he 
sighed."  He  had  gone  aside  from  the 
multitude,  so  that  there  was,  perhaps, 
no  one  to  observe  him.  His  only  com- 
panion was  deaf,  so  that  though  he 
might  have  been  seen  to  weep,  he  could 
not  be  heard  to  sigh.  Therefore  was 
the  sigh  quite,  so  to  speak,  between 
himself  and  his  Father  in  heaven.  It 
v/as  as  though  he  had  taken  advantage' 
of  the  being  alone  and  unnoticed,  to 
gain  a  moment's  vent  for  that  climbing 
sorrow  which  he  was  not  willing  to  dis- 
play before  disciples  who  loved  him. 
And  I  seem  to  need  nothing  more  to 
tell  me  how  continually  that  heart  was 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS   OP  DECAPOLIS. 


05 


wrung,  into  which  sin,  which  makes  all 
our  anguish,  never  had  penetrated,  than 
the  simple  recital  that,  before  our  bless- 
ed Savior  uttered  the  word  which  was 
to  unstop  the  ear  and  loosen  the  tongue, 
"  he  sighed  ;"  "looking  up  to  heaven, 
he  sighed,  and  saith  unto  him,  Ephphatha, 
that  is,  Be  opened." 

But  vyherefbre  did  Christ  sigh  ]  was 
it  only  in  evidence  of  the  general  de- 
pression of  a  spirit,  wearied  and  over- 
wrought by  contact  with  wickedness? 
or  came  the  sigh  from  a  consciousness 
that  the  individual  before  him  would  be 
injured  rather  than  benefited,  by  the 
miracle  about  to  be  wrought  ]  We  can- 
not, of  course,  speak  with  any  certainty 
in  reply  to  these  questions,  forasmuch 
as  the  sacred  historian  gives  no  account 
of  the  feelings  which  then  struggled  in 
the  mind  our  Lord.  Yet  there  are 
sundry  interpretations  which  we  may 
put  upon  the  sigh;  and  if  we  cannot 
determine  the  true,  we  may,  perhaps, 
draw  from  each  some  material  of  in- 
struction. 

We  may  be  sure,  in  the  first  place, 
as  to  what  did  not  cause  the  sigh  ;  it 
argued  no  distrust  of  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, though  it  followed  immediately  on 
his  looking  up  to  his  abode.  The  look- 
ing up  to  heaven  was  rather  to  direct 
the  deaf  man's  attention  to  the  source 
of  healing  power,  than  to  obtain  a  supply 
of  that  power.  There  was  the  same 
lifting  up  of  the  eyes  on  the  occasion  of 
the  raising  of  Lazarus  ;  and  then  Christ 
stated  the  reason  of  this  public  appeal 
to  the  Father.  "  And  Jesus  lifted  up 
Lis  eyes,  and  said,  Father,  I  thank  thee 
that  thou  hast  heard  me.  And  I  knew 
that  thou  hearest  me  always  :  but  be- 
cause of  the  people  which  stand  by,  I 
said  it,  that  they  may  believe  that  thou 
hast  sent  me."  He  was  always  sure, 
you  observe,  of  the  ability  to  work  a 
miracle  ;  but  on  certain  occasions  he  saw 
fit  to  preface  the  working  by  an  appeal 
to  God,  in  order  to  impress  on  specta- 
tors that  his  power  was  from  above,  and 
not,  as  had  been  blasphemously  said, 
from  beneath. 

Hence,  the  sigh  could  have  had  no 
such  connection  with  the  looking  up  to 
heaven,  as  might  argue  mistrust  of  the 
Father  whose  will  he  had  come  down 
to  accomplish.  But,  nevertheless,  we 
may  readily  understand  how,  on  the 
instant  of  working  a  miracle,  a  glance 


towards  heaven  might  cause  Christ  to 
sigh.  Wherefore  had  he  descended  from 
that  bright  abode  if  not  to  achieve  its 
being  opened  to  the  lost  race  of  man  ? 
And  wherefore  did  he  work  miracles,  if 
not  to  fix  attention  on  himself  as  the 
promised  seed  of  the  woman,  who, 
through  obedience  and  death,  was  to 
reinstate  our  lineage  in  the  paradise 
from  which  they  had  been  exiled  for 
sin  ]  There  was  a  sufficiency  in  the 
satisfaction  which  he  was  about  make, 
to  remove  the  curse  from  every  human 
being,  and  to  place  all  the  children  of 
Adam  in  a  more  glorious  position  than 
their  common  parent  had  forfeited.  But 
he  knew  too  well  that,  in  regard  of  mul- 
titudes, his  endurances  would  be  fruit- 
less, at  least,  in  the  sense  of  obtaining 
their  salvation,  though  they  cannot  be 
in  that  of  vindicating  the  attributes  of 
God,  and  leaving  the  impenitent  self- 
condemned  at  the  judgment. 

Therefore,  it  may  be,  did  Christ  sigh  ; 
and  that,  too,  immediately  after  looking 
up  to  heaven.  I  can  read  the  sitrh  ;  it 
is  full  of  most  pathetic  speech.  "  Yon- 
der," the  Redeemer  seems  to  say,  "  is 
the  home  of  my  Father,  of  the  cheru- 
bim and  the  seraphim.  I  would  fain 
conduct  to  that  home  the  race  which  I 
have  made  one  with  Myself,  by  so  as- 
suming their  nature  as  to  join  it  with 
the  divine.  I  am  about  to  work  another 
miracle — to  make,  that  is,  another  ef- 
fort to  induce  the  rebellious  to  take  Me 
as  their  leader  to  yon  glorious  domain. 
But  it  will  be  fruitless  ;  I  foresee,  but 
too  certainly,  that  I  shall  still  be  "  de- 
spised and  rejected  of  men."  Then 
who  can  wonder  that  a  sigh  was  thus  in- 
terposed between  the  looking  up  to  hea- 
ven and  the  uttering  the  healing  word  ? 
The  eye  of  the  Redeemer  saw  further 
than  our  own.  It  pierced  the  vault 
which  bounds  our  vision,  and  beheld  the 
radiant  thrones  which  his  agony  would 
purchase  for  the  children  of  men.  And 
that  men — men  whom  he  loved  with  a 
love  of  which  that  agony  alone  gives  the 
measure — should  refuse  these  thrones, 
and  thereby  not  only  put  from  them 
happiness,  but  incur  wretchedness  with- 
out limit  or  end — must  not  this  have 
been  always  a  crushing  thing  to  the 
Savior  %  and  more  especially  when,  by 
glancing  at  the  glories  which  might  have 
been  theirs,  he  had  heightened  his 
thought  of  their  madness  and  misery  1 


96 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


I  am  sure  that  were  we  striving  to  pre- 
vail on  some  wretched  being  to  enter 
an  asylum  where  lie  would  not  only  be 
sheltered  from  imminent  danger,  but 
surrounded  with  all  the  material  of  hap- 
pinesB,  a  look  at  that  asylum,  with  its 
securities  and  comforts,  would  cause  us 
to  feel  sorer  than  ever  at  heart,  as  we 
turned  to  make  one  more  endeavor,  like- 
ly to  be  useless  as  every  preceding,  to 
overcome  the  obduracy  which  must  end 
in  destruction.  Therefore  ought  we 
readily  to  understand  why  the  Redeem- 
er, bent  only  on  raising  to  glory  a  race, 
of  which  he  foresaw  that  myriads  would 
voluntarily  sink  down  to  tire  and  shame, 
gave  token  of  a  distressed  and  disquiet- 
ed spirit,  between  looking  towards 
heaven  and  working  a  miracle  —  as 
though  the  look  had  almost  made  him 
reluctant  for  the  work — "looking  up 
to  heaven,  he  sighed,  and  saith  unto 
him,  Epbphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened." 

But  there  may  have  been  reasons, 
personal  to  the  individual  about  to  be 
healed,  which  caused  Christ  to  preface 
the  miracle  with  a  sigh.  We  have  spo- 
ken of  the  delight  which  it  would  yield 
to  a  benevolent  man,  if  he  could  go  into 
an  asylum  for  the  blind  or  the  deaf,  and 
communicate  by  a  word  the  senses  which 
were  wanting  in  the  objects  around 
him.  Bui  did  we  not  somewhat  exag- 
gerate, when  we  supposed  that  the  plea- 
sure would  be  quite  unalloyed  ?  It 
could  hardly  fail  but  that  a  suspicion 
would  cross  the  mind  of  the  individual, 
who  had  the  power  of  giving  sight  to 
the  blind,  and  hearing  to  the  deaf,  that, 
but  too  probably,  there  was  some  one 
in  the  group  to  whom  it  would  be  no 
blessing  to  obtain  the  deficient  sense; 
who.  if  made  to  see,  would  but  enslave 
himself  to  "the  lust,  of  the  eye,"  or  who, 
if  enabled  to  hear  and  to  speak,  would 
but  listen  to  evil,  and  employ  his  tongue 
in  dishonoring  his  (rod.  We  know,  too 
well,  how  largely  does  our  every  sense 
give  inlet  to  temptation;  so  that,  possi- 
bly, the  want  of  one  of  these  senses  might 
often  cause  the  soul  to  be  assaulted  with 
less  vehemence  from  without.  And  it 
is  easy  to  believe  that  a  blind  person,  to 
whom  sight  were  suddenly  and  miracu- 
lou-ly  given,  would  find  an  inundation, 
as  it  were,  of  new  and  strange  desires, 
rushing  on  him  through  those  magic 
organs  which,  like  Satan  on  the  mountain, 
show  us  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world 


and  their  glory;"  and  that  a  deaf  per- 
son, who  should  obtain  instantaneously 
the  hearing  ear,  and  the  speaking  tongue, 
would  be  so  bewildered  by  the  new  pro- 
cess of  receiving  and  communicating 
thought,  and  so  enabled  to  sin  in  new 
ways,  that,  if  there  were  question  only 
of  the  advantageousness  of  his  condition 
in  regard  of  another  world,  he  had  better 
have  been  confined  to  the  scanty  intelli- 
gence which  may  be  communicated  in 
spite  of  defectiveness  of  organs,  than 
have  acquired  abilities  which  may  be  so 
perilously  abused. 

Hence,  it  might  not  be  wholly  without 
some  sentiment  of  apprehension  and'fear, 
that  the  benevolent  man  would  pro- 
nounce the  word  which  was  to  give  sight 
to  the  blind,  or  speech  to  the  dumb.  It 
may  be  that,  notwithstanding  the  flow 
of  pleasurable  feelings  which  would  seem 
neccessarily  to  attend  the  putting  forth 
a  power  communicative  of  such  benefit 
and  blessing,  he  would  sigh  with  the 
Epbphatha  on  his  lips,  as  the  thought 
occurred,  that  the  senses,  which  he  was 
about  to  impart,  might  only  prove  ave- 
nues of  evil,  and  be  desecrated  to  the 
service  of  sin.  But  with  Christ,  who 
could  read  the  human  heart,  and  foresee 
the  human  life,  there  could  not  have 
been  doubtfulness  as  to  the  moral  issue 
of  the  miracle.  He  must  have  unerr- 
ingly known  whether  the  individual  be- 
fore him  would  be  healed  in  soul  as 
well  as  body :  whether  the  wonder,  of 
which  he  was  the  subject,  would  lead  to 
faith  in  the  prophet  by  whom  it  was 
wrought ;  whether  the  organs  which  he 
was  about  to  obtain,  would  be  employed 
on  the  glorifying,  or  on  the  dishonoring, 
God.  And  perhaps  he  foreknew  that 
the  man,  when  healed,  would  be  found 
amongst  his  persecutors,  and  oh,  if  so, 
how  could  he  but  sigh,  sigh  deeply  and 
painfully,  as  he  considered  what  sin  had 
made  the  human  heart,  so  hard  that  even 
miracles  would  not  soften  it,  nor  produce 
in  it  love  towards  a  heavenly  benefactor? 
Indeed,  indeed,  if  there  were  such  an 
exhibition  of  insensibility  and  ingratitude 
present  to  his  mind,  well  might  he  sigh. 
Ah,  men  and  brethren,  if  there  can  be 
sighs  in  heaven,  he  must  still  sigh  as  he 
"  poureth  his  benefits "  on  every  one 
amongst  us,  benefits  which  are  too  often 
received  as  mere  things  of  course,  bene- 
fits which,  if  not  miraculous,  are  only  not 
so  because  of  their  frequency,  and  which, 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


07 


alas,  fail  to  bind  us  more  devotedly  to 
his  service. 

Or,  if  the  Redeemer  did  not  know 
that  the  man  whom  he  was  about  to 
heal,  would  join  himself  to  his  enemies; 
if,  on  the  contrary,  he  knew  that  he 
would  be  of  the  few  who  acknowledged 
him  as  the  Messiah ;  still  he  was  too 
well  aware,  we  may  believe,  of  the  dan- 
gerousness  of  the  faculties  which  his 
word  would  bestow,  to  bestow  them 
without  a  sigh.  It  was  language,  of 
which  the  man  was  henceforward  to  be 
master,  the  power  of  speaking  and  of 
being  spoken  with.  And  Christ  could 
not  give  this  but  with  a  sigh.  He  knew 
that  the  power  of  speaking  was  espe- 
cially the  power  of  sinning :  that  no 
member  was  so  difficult  of  control,  and 
so  liable  to  offend,  as  the  tongue.  There 
are  many  statements  in  the  Bible,  in 
regard  to  the  importance  of  speech,  the 
difficulty  of  regulating  our  words,  and 
the  danger  of  sinning  with  our  lips.  But 
I  know  of  nothing  more  emphatic  and 
expressive  than  this  sigh  of  our  Lord, 
when  considered  as  indicating  that  what 
he  bestowed,  he  bestowed  with  appre- 
hension. As  with  the  tears  which  Christ 
wept  over  Jerusalem,  there  is  more  in 
this  sigh  than  in  lengthened  and  heart- 
touching  speech.  The  tongue  unloosed 
with  a  sigh,  the  sigh  of  him  who  had  no 
sin  to  sigh  for,  is  the  most  affecting  of 
all  testimonies  that  the  tongue  cannot  be 
used  without  peril.  It  might  do  more 
than  whole  sermons  on  the  guilt  of  idle 
words,  to  make  us  watchful  in  keeping 
"the  door  of  our  lips,"  were  we  only  to 
bear  in  mind  this  sigh  of  the  Redeemer. 
Oh,  when  tempted  to  the  light  jest,  and, 
yet  more,  to  the  profane  allusion — when 
inclined  to  employ  on  what  is  frivolous, 
or  malicious,  or  impure,  that  high  faculty 
which  God  bestowed  that  we  might  make 
creation  vocal  with  his  praise  ;  then,  if 
you  cannot  recollect  any  elaborate  ar- 
guments which  establish  the  special  sin- 
fulness of  sins  of  the  tongue,  at  least  you 
might  recall  the  simple  narrative  before 
us ;  and  it  might  tend  to  make  and  keep 
you  fearful  of  misusing  and  desecrating 
the  power  of  speech,  to  remember  that 
your  Savior  could  not  impart  this  power, 
without  betokening  his  consciousness 
how  perilous  it  was  :  "  He  sighed,"  be- 
fore he  could  bring  himself  to  say  to  the 
deaf  and  dumb  man,  "  Ephphatha,  that 
is,  Be  opened." 
13 


But  we  alluded,  in  an  early  part  of 
our  discourse,  to  the  parabolic  charactei 
which  seems  attached  to  the  miracles  of 
our  Lord;  and,  inclining  to  the  belief 
that  there  is  no  miracle  recorded  in  the 
New  Testament,  which  does  not  serve 
to  illustrate  certain  truths  in  the  christian 
dispensation,  we  are  reluctant  to  leave 
the  narrative  before  us  without  glancing 
at  its  typical  instruction.  And  here  we 
need  hardly  refer  to  the  general  fact,  that 
the  sicknesses  of  the  soul  are  analogous 
to  those  of  the  body  ;  or  that  man,  con- 
sidered as  an  immortal  being,  requires 
healing  processes,  similar  to  those  re- 
quired by  the  lame,  the  deaf,  and  the 
blind.  It  can  scarcely  be  called  a  figure 
of  speech,  when  we  describe  the  soul  of 
a  man,  not  yet  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  as  deficient  in  the  powers  of  hear- 
ing, and  seeing,  and  speaking.  For  the 
soul  must  be  judged  relatively  to  that 
higher  world  of  which  she  was  originally 
the  citizen,  and  her  possession  of  facul- 
ties must  be  determined  by  testing  her 
ability  for  the  employments  and  enjoy- 
ments of  the  scene  for  which  she  was 
designed.  But  who  can  disguise  from 
himself,  that,  in  spiritual  things,  he  is  by 
nature  deficient  in  senses  and  organs,  as 
he  would  be  in  earthly,  if  unable  to  see, 
to  walk,  to  hear,  to  speak,  to  taste  1  The 
unrenewed  soul  has  no  eye  for  the 
glories  of  heaven,  no  feet  for  running  the 
way  of  God's  commandments,  no  ear  for 
the  sweet  music  of  the  Gospel,  no  voice 
for  the  praises  of  Christ,  no  relish  for 
that  bread  which  is  "  for  the  life  of  the 
world."  And  forasmuch  as  it  is  only 
through  Christ  in  his  office  of  Mediator, 
that  those  influences  are  communicated 
which  repair  the  decayed,  or  impart  the 
destroyed  faculties,  we  may  justly  regard 
our  blessed  Savior,  whilst  working  mira- 
cles on  the  body,  as  both  teaching  what 
was  needful  for  the  soul,  and  represent- 
ing himself  as  its  appointed  physician 
Hence,  in  Christ's  unstopping  the  ears 
and  loosening  the  tongue,  of  the  man 
that  was  brought  to  him  as  he  passed 
through  Decapolis,  every  one  may  find 
the  outlines  of  a  symbolical  lesson,  as  to 
the  necessity  for  a  divine  operation  on 
our  spiritual  organs,  ere  the  tidings  of 
redemption  can  penetrate  the  soul,  and 
the  utterances  of  thanksgiving  be  heard 
in  return. 

But  more  may  have  been  represented 
than  this  general  fact.     The  man  doea 


96 


PECULIARITIES  OF  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


not  seem  to  have  come  of  himself;  and 
there  is  no  evidence  whatsoever  that  he 
had  faith  in  Christ's  power  to  heal.  In- 
deed, us  we  have  endeavored  to  Show 

you,  Christ  took  pains  to  fix  attention  on 
himself  as  the  worker  of  the  miracle,  as 
though  to  provide  for  faith  following,  if  it 
did  nol  precede  the  cure.  The  friends  or 
relatives  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  man  had 
faith  in  our  Lord;  this  faith  moved  them 
to  solicit  a  miracle,  and  was  recompensed 
by  its  being  wrought.  And  there  is  great 
encouragement  in  every  such  record  of 
blessings  procured  through  the  interces- 
sion of  friends.  When  I  read  of  parents 
or  relations  leading  the  dumb  to  Jesus, 
and  soliciting;  in  his  name,  what  he  could 
not  solicit  for  himself,  I  gain  assurance 
that  parents  or  relations  may  bring 
children  to  the  regenerating  waters  of 
baptism,  and  entreat  on  their  behalf 
those  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  are 
yet  too  young  to  entreat  for  themselves. 
1  thank  God  for  the  record  of  miracles, 
in  whose  subjects  there  was  faith  ;  I 
thank  him  still  more  for  the  record,  when 
the  faith  was  not  found  in  the  party  that 
was  healed,  but  in  the  -party  who  con- 
ducted the  diseased  person  to  Christ. 
Oh,  we  may  do  much  for  those  whom 
we  love,  whilst  they  are  unable,  or  even 
whilst  unwilling,  to  do  any  thing  for 
themselves.  We  may  bring  them  to 
Christ;  we  may  entreat  Christ  to  heal 
them  ;  and  such  narratives  as  that  which 
has  been  under  review,  warrant  the  hope, 
yea.  even  the  expectation,  that,  if  we 
ask  in  faith,  the  Redeemer  will  put  forth 
his  miraculous  power. 

But  there  is  yet  another  significative 
fact  which  ought  not  to  be  overlooked. 
Our  Lord  led  the  alllicted  man  aside  from 
the  multitude  :  did  he  not  thereby  tell 
them,  ulio  may  be  visited  with  any 
desire  for  spiritual  cure,  that  it  is  not  in 
the  throng  and  bustle  of  the  world  that 
they  may  expect  the  renewal  of  their 
senses  and  powers]  that  they  should 
separate    themselves    from     distracting 


associations,  seeing  that  it  is  in  privacy 
and  retirement  that  he  is  ordinarily 
pleased  to  work  a  moral  miracle,  and 
reproduce  in  the  soul  the  lost  image  of 

;  God  ?  He  can  heal  you  any  where  :  he 
can  unstop  the  ear  and  loosen  the  tongue 
whilst  you  are  in  the  hurry  of  the  crowd, 
or  when  you  have  sought  the  secrecy  of 
the  closet.  But  he  loves  the  solitude  :  if 
you  wish  him  to  work  a  miracle,  prove 
that  you  wish  it  by  going  aside  from  the 
multitude,  detaching  yourselves  from 
a  world  that  "lieth  in  wickedness," 
breaking  away  from  the  company  of  his 
enemies — and  then  may  you  hope  that 
he  will  meet  you,  and  say  unto  you, 
with  as  much  of  power  as  of  gracious 
ness,  "Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened." 
Will  he  say  it  with  a  sigh  ]  Indeed, 
so  great  is  the  corruption  of  our  nature, 
and  so  vast  the  disorganization  around 
us,  that  the  portion  of  a  renewed  man 
has   often  to  be  described  in  the  words 

I  of  St.  Paul :  "  Without  were  fightings, 
within  were  fears."  To  convert,  is  to 
consign  to  a  hard  conflict  with  the  world, 

j  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  And  Christ 
might  sigh  in  speaking  the  word  which 
gives  spiritual  health,  remembering  that 
he  quickens  men  to  the  painful  and 
perilous  task  of  crucifying  themselves, 
of  offering  themselves  "  a  living  sacri- 
fice "  unto  God. 

But  if  "heaviness  may  endure  for  a 
night,"  "joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 
The  victory  is  sure  with  Christ  for  a 
leader,  though  the  contest  be  severe. 
And  if  it  be  with  a  sigh  that  he  pro- 
nounces the  Ephphatha  now — with  a 
sigh,  because  to  be  a  believer  is  to  be 
persecuted  and  afflicted,  at  war  v/ith  the 
world,  at  war  with  one's  self — it  shall 
be  with  a  smile  that  he  pronounces  the 
Ephphatha  hereafter,  saying  to  the 
everlasting  doors,  "  Be  ye  opened,"  that 
my  people  may  enter  my  kingdom : 
"  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  there  the  weary  be  at  rest." 


SERMON    XI 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


1  Ask  ye  of  the  Lord- rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  : 
of  rain,  to  every  one  grass  i 


I  the  Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds,  and  give  them  shower* 
the  field." — Zechariah  x.  1. 


It  is  not  necessary  that  we  inquire 
whether  as  originally  delivered,  these 
words  included  spiritual  blessings  or 
were  limited  to  temporal.  The  former 
are  so  frequently  illustrated  or  shadowed 
out  in  Scripture  by  the  latter,  that  we 
may  safely  treat  the  passage  as  a  direc- 
tion and  a  promise  which  have  to  do 
generally  with  prayer,  and  particularly 
with  prayer  for  the  communication  of 
divine  grace.  In  order,  however,  to  the 
right  understanding  of  the  words,  you 
are  to  observe  that  there  were  two 
seasons  of  the  year  at  which  rain  was 
peculiarly  needed  and  looked  for  in 
Judea.  The  one  was  in  autumn,  at  the 
seed-time  ;  the  other  was  in  the  spring, 
when  the  corn  had  to  be  brought  to  an 
ear  and  filled.  The  rain  which  fell  at 
the  one,  is  spoken  of  in  Scripture,  as 
"  the  former  rain  ;"  that  at  the  other,  as 
'•  the  latter;"  and  you  find  the  two  men- 
tioned together  when  God  would  cove- 
nant to  do  great  things  for  his  land. 
Thus,  in  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy, 
"If  ye  shall  hearken  diligently  unto  my 
command meats,  which  I  command  you 
this  iliy,  I  will  give  you  the  rain  of  your 
land  in  his  due  season,  the  first  rain  and 
the  hitter  rain."  Thus  again,  in  the 
prophecy  of  Jeremiah,  "  Neither  say 
they  in  their  heart,  Let  us  now  fear  the 
Lord  our  God,  that  giveth  rain,  both  the 
former  and  the  latter  in  his  season;  he 
re.serveth  unto  us  the  appointed  weeks 
of  harvest."  And  once  more,  in  Hosea, 
"  Then  shall  we  know,  if  we  follow  on 
to  know  the  Lord  :  his  going  forth  is 
prepared  as  the  morning  ;  and  he  shall 
come  unto  us  as  the  rain,  as  the  latter 
and  former  rain  unto  the  earth." 

But  the  "  latter  rain  "  is  often  mention- 


ed by  itself,  as  though  specially  needed 
to  the  making  available  the  labors  of  the 
husbandman.  Thus  you  read  in  the 
Book  of  Job ;  "  They  waited  for  me  as 
for  the  rain,  and  they  opened  their  mouth 
wide  as  for  the  latter  rain."  And  Solo- 
mon says,  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  "In 
the  light  of  the  king's  countenance  is  life; 
and  his  favor  is  as  a  cloud  of  the  latter 
rain."  Jeremiah,  also,  when  describing 
the  utter  desolation  brought  by  sin  upon 
the  land,  exclaims ;  "  Therefore  the 
showers  have  been  withholden,  and 
there  hath  been  no  latter  rain."  The 
want  of  this  latter  rain  would  evidently 
be  peculiarly  distressing ;  it  might  not 
do  more  towards  causing  famine  than 
the  want  of  the  former ;  but  occurring 
at  a  time  when  the  husbandman  had 
fully  done  his  part,  and  was  expecting 
to  reap  the  fruit  of  his  labors,  the  horrors 
of  dearth  would  be  aggravated  through 
the  bitterness  of  disappointment;  and 
there  would,  moreover,  be  less  opportu- 
nity of  providing  sustenance  from  other 
quarters  than  if  "the  former"  rain  had 
failed,  and  thus  long  notice  had  been 
given  of  an  insufficient  harvest. 

We  may  find,  as  we  proceed  with  our 
discourse,  that  in  applying  the  text  to 
spiritual  things,  great  attention  should 
he  given  to  this  mention  of  "  the  latter 
rain  "  rather  than  of  "  the  former."  At 
present  it  is  sufficient  to  have  pointed 
out  to  you  the  times  at  which  rain  ordi- 
narily fell  in  Judea  ;  you  will  hence  be 
aware  of  the  importance  of  the  blessing 
for  which  the  people  are  directed  to  ask. 
We  will  now,  without  further  preface, 
enter  on  the  consideration  of  several  great 
truths  which  appear  derivable  from  the 
passage;  when  taken,  in  its  largest  sense, 


100 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


as  a  direction  to  prayer.  We  will  not  at- 
tempt, beforehand,  to  specify  these  truths, 
but  ratherleave  them  to  open  successively 
a^  we  prosecute  out  examination.  Let  us 
only  ask  rain  of  the  Lord,  let  us  only  en- 
treat the  aids  and  teachings  of  his  Spirit. 
without  which  we  may  not  hope  to  enter 
thoroughly  into  the  meaning  of  Scripture, 
and  it  may.  indeed,  be  for  our  profit  that. 
we  study  the  direction,  "  Ask  ye  of  the 
Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  ;" 
and  that  we  hearken  to  the  promise, 
"The  Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds, 
and  give  them  showers  of  rain,  to  every 
one  grass  in  the  field." 

Now  we  shall  begin  with  looking  at 
tlu-  direction  as  having  to  do  literally 
with  the  rain,  with  those  showers  which 
descend  in  due  season  to  water  the 
earth,  "that  it  may  give  seed  to  the 
sower  and  bread  to  the  eater."  Alas, 
how  difficult  is  it  to  keep  God  in  mind 
as  the  great  First  Cause,  when  there  is 
a  mechanism  of  second  causes  through 
which  he  is  pleased  to  conduct  his 
operations  and  communicate  blessings  ! 
If  things  ordinarily  occur  in  a  settled 
course,  we  speedily  forget  that  this 
course  is,  after  all,  but  the  law  which 
God  is  pleased  to  prescribe  to  himself, 
to  be  followed  oidy  while  it  shall  seem 
good  to  his  infinite  wisdom,  and  swerved 
from  whensoever  he  shall  think  fit.  to 
suspend  his  own  laws.  If,  for  example, 
there  be  a  time  of  the  year  at  which  rain 
is  accustomed  to  fall,  how  readily  do 
we  expect  rain  at  that  time,  just  as 
though  there  were  a  certain  set  of 
causes,  which,  working  always,  and 
with  unvarying  regularity,  would  be 
sure,  at  corresponding  seasons,  to  pro- 
duce corresponding  results.  Men  seem 
practically  to  have  but  little  remem- 
brance, that  the  mainspring  of  all  the 
mechanism  is  in  the  hands  of  an  invisible 
Creator;  that  it  is  not  from  what  goes 
on  in  the  hidden  laboratories  of  what 
they  call  nature  that  season  succeeds 
season,  and  shower  and  sunshine  alter- 
nate with  so  much  of  beautiful  and  bene- 
ficent order,  but  that  the  whole  arrange- 
ment is  momentarily  dependant  on  the 
will  and  energy  of  that  supreme  Being 
who  "sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the 
earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as 
grasshoppers."  It  is  needful,  we  might 
almost  say.  that  God  should  occasionally 
interrupt  the  ordinary  course  of  things, 
that  he  should  suspend  the  laws  which 


I  he  has  been   pleased   n»  ,u 

natural  world,  if  only  that  he  may  ke 
'  himself  from  being  forgotten,  and  com 


o  impress  on  the 

eep 

mpel 

some  recognition  of  his  all-pervading 
influence  from  those  who  actually  "  live 
in  him,  and  move,  and  have  their  being." 
But  whilst  there  is  this  known  prone- 
ness  amongst  us  to  the  substituting  se- 
cond causes  for  the  first,  whilst  we  are 
confessedly  so  ready  to  look  to  the  laws 
and  the  mechanism  of  nature,  to  do  for 
us  what  can  be  done  only  by  the  direct 
and  immediate  agency  of  God,  how  im- 
portant, how  instructive,  such  an  injunc- 
tion as  this;  "Ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain 
in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  !"  You 
are  to  lay  the  emphasis  on  its  being 
"  the  time  of  the  latter  rain,"  the  season, 
that  is,  at  which  rain  might  be  commonly 
expected  ;  at  which  year  after  year,  it 
had  been  accustomed  to  fall,  and  at 
which,  therefore,  a  boastful,  or  rather  an 
infidel  philosophy,  might  have  argued 
that  it  would  continue  to  fall,  in  obedi- 
ence to  fixed  and  immutable  laws.  If, 
from  some  cause  or  another,  there  should 
be  want  of  rain  at  seasons  when  it  was 
not  usually  wanted,  when  it  was  not  the 
time  for  either  "  the  former  rain "  or 
"the  latter,"  perhaps  this  boastful  philo- 
sophy itself  would  allow  that  there  was 
place  or  occasion  for  prayer.  We  do 
not,  indeed,  mean  that  the  philosophy 
would  necessarily  assent  to  the  possible 
usefulness  of  prayer  in  the  supposed 
emergence  :  it  is  far  more  likely  that  it 
would  entrench  itself  within  its  maxims 
as  to  the  fixedness  of  nature's  laws,  and 
the  consequent  vanity  of  any  expectation 
that  these  laws  would  be  interfered 
with  in  order  to  the  meeting  our  wishes 
or  wants.  But,  at  least,  philosophy 
would  here  confess,  that  if  the  rain  fell 
at  all,  it  would  fall  not  through  the 
working  of  mere  second  causes  ;  and 
that,  therefore,  though  prayer  must  be 
practically  worthless,  as  pleading  against 
a  (irmly-settled  ordinance,  it  was  still  so 
far  in  place  as  that  only  the  Being,  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  had  power  to 
give  rain  at  so  unwonted  a  time.  If, 
however,  it  be  actually  "the  time  of  the 
latter  rain,"  then  will  a  prayer  for  rain 
appear  to  this  philosophy  utterly  unrea- 
sonable or  preposterous,  as  if  we  were 
not  content  to  leave  natural  causes  to 
work  out  their  invariable  effects;  or  as 
if  we  wanted  to  make  a  parade  of  tho 
power  and  efficacy  of  prayer,  and  there- 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


101 


fore  directed  it  to  a  boon  which  we  knew 
that  we  should  receive,  whether  we 
asked  it  or  not. 

But  God,  on  the  contrary,  says:  "Ask 
ye  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain." 
Oh,  what  a  lesson  to  us  that  we  reckon 
not,  so  to  speak,  on  the  seasons ;  that 
we  presume  not  to  expect  any  good 
merely  because  the  time  is  come  round 
at  which,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  his 
dealings,  God  has  been  used  to  bestow 
that  good.  A  blessing  may  have  been 
long  and  regularly  communicated  ;  but 
we  are  not  to  count  on  the  regularity  of 
the  communication,  as  though  it  proved 
some  immutable  law,  which  must  con- 
tinue to  work  out  the  accustomed  result : 
it  may  be  "  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  ;" 
the  experience  of  a  lengthened  course 
of  years  may  warrant  the  expectation 
of  rain;  and  the  clouds  on  the  firmament 
may  seem  big  with  the  usual  supply 
— but  God  has  yet  to  issue  his  com- 
mand ;  God  has  yet  to  unseal  the  foun- 
tain ;  and  therefore  there  is  still  place 
for  prayer,  there  is  still  need  for  prayer  : 
it  is  "the  time  of  the  latter  rain,"  but, 
on  that  very  account,  it  is  the  time  also 
for  the  asking  of  rain.  To  ask  it  at  an- 
other time  might  be  asking  a  miracle,  a 
depaiture  from  God's  ordinary  course, 
and  we  cannot  be  said  to  have  warrant 
for  that.  But  to  ask  it  at  this  time,  is 
to  ask  what  we  know  is  according  to 
God's  will ;  and  "  this,"  saith  St.  John, 
"  is  the  confidence  that  we  have  in  him, 
that  if  we  ask  any  thing  according  to  his 
will,  he  heareth  us." 

Beware,  thenr  of  taking  for  granted 
that  mercies  will  continue  to  descend  in 
the  order,  and  at  the  times,  which  may 
have  long  been  observed  :  there  is  no 
such  likely  way  of  stopping  the  supply, 
as  the  failing  to  recognize  that  the  foun- 
tain is  with  God.  God  describes  him- 
self as  "a  jealous  God;"  and  it  must 
move  him  to  jealousy,  whensoever,  in 
any  degree,  we  substitute  his  instruments 
for  himself,  or  look  to  the  channel  as  if 
it  were  the  spring.  The  long  continu- 
ance of  a  mercy  at  a  particular  season 
may  indeed  be  said  to  involve  a  kind  of 
promise — for  God  has  so  constituted  us 
that  we  naturally  expect  what  we  have 
often  experienced  ;  and  a  divine  promise 
is  not  only  that  which  is  registered  in 
the  divine  word,  but  that  also  which  is 
conveyed  through  the  moral  constitution 
received  at  God's  hands.     But  let  it  be 


remembered  that  a  divine  promise,  so 
far  from  proving  it  unnecessary  that  we 
ask,  should  itself  be  our  great  leason 
for  asking.  God's  promises  are  the 
warrants  for  man's  prayers.  What  God 
has  promised,  may  be  asked  for  in  the 
perfect  confidence  "  that  it  is  according 
to  his  will :"  and  since  the  promises  are 
conditional,  their  fulfillment  being  made 
dependent  on  our  seeking,  or  inquiring 
for,  the  covenanted  blessings,  we  may 
not  only  be  encouraged  in  our  prayers 
by  God's  promises,  but  ought  in  no  de- 
gree to  reckon  on  promises,  except  as  we 
make  them  foundations  for  prayers.  God 
may  be  said  to  have  promised  rain  "  in 
the  time  of  the  latter  rain  :"  but  just 
because  it  is  a  time  at  which  rain  has 
been  promised,  therefore  it  is  a  time  at 
which  prayer  should  be  made. 

And  so  with  every  mercy.  The  re- 
currence of  the  time  at  which  God  has 
been  used  to  bestow  it,  should  not  make 
you  expect  to  receive  it  again  without 
asking,  but  should  make  you  ask  in  the 
full  confidence  of  receiving.  The  sab- 
bath, for  example,  is  a  "  time  of  the  lat- 
ter rain  :"  rain  is  then  used  to  fall — God's 
Spirit  descends  in  gracious  showers  for 
the  refreshment  of  the  church.  The  time 
of  the  administation  of  christian  ordinan- 
ces is  a  "  time  of  the  latter  rain,"  God 
commonly  using  the  preaching  of  his 
word  and  the  dispensing  of  his  sacra- 
ments, to  the  conveyance  of  grace  to 
his  waiting  people.  But  because  these 
are  times  "  of  the  latter  rain,"  shall  they 
not  also  be  times  for  the  praying  for 
rain  1  Oh,  never  ought  your  prayers 
to  be  so  fervent  or  importunate.  You 
are,  as  it  were,  on  the  top  of  Carmel ; 
you  see  the  cloud  rising  out  of  the  sea; 
but  you  must  not  take  for  granted  that 
there  will  be  "abundance  of  rain:" 
God  may  command  the  cloud  back  into 
the  sea,  yea,  he  may  be  expected  to  do 
this,  if  you  do  not  wrestle  with  him  in 
prayer.  Therefore,  on  the  Sabbath  morn, 
because  it  is  the  Sabbath  morn,  the 
morning  of  grace,  redouble  your  prayers 
for  grace  ;  on  sacramental  opportunities, 
because  they  are  God's  chosen  occasions 
of  imparling  his  Spirit,  cry  more  ear- 
nestly than  ever  for  that  Spirit.  Think 
not  that  the  favorableness  of  the  season 
can  make  the  necessity  for  prayer  less, 
whereas  it  does  but  make  the  encour- 
agement to  prayer  greater.  Substitute 
not  the  means    of  grace  for    grace,  aa 


102 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


though,  when  the  former  were  vouch- 
safed, the  latter  would  be  sure  to  follow  ; 
ah,  there  may  be  the  clouds  and  not  the 
showers  ;  and,  therefore,  remember  ye 
the  precept  of  our  text,  and  "  ask  ye 
of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the 
latter  rain." 

Now  we  have  thus  endeavored  to 
show  you  that  the  circumstance  of  its 
being  "  a  time  of  rain  " — whether  the 
natural  rain  or  the  spiritual — so  far 
from  furnishing  a  reason  why  we  should 
not  ask  Ibr  rain,  is  itself  the  great  argu-. 
ment  for  our  asking;  inasmuch  as  it 
proves  that  we  have  God's  promise  on 
our  side,  and  the  promise  of  God  is  al- 
ways the  warrant,  but  never  the  substi- 
tute for  the  prayer  of  man.  But  all  that 
bas  preceded  would  have  been  equally 
appropriate,  had  "the  former  rain,"  not 
"  the  latter,"  been  specified  in  the  text  : 
we  have  simply  spoken  of  the  time  as 
being  "a  time  of  rain  ;"  a  time  at  which 
ir  is  God's  ordinary  course  to  communi- 
cate a  blessing ;  and  we  have  warned 
you  against  expecting  that  blessing, 
without  asking  for  it ;  we  have  endeavor- 
ed to  prove  to  you,  that  your  reason  for 
expecting  should  be  your  reason  also 
ibr  asking. 

Let  us  not,  however,  pass  without 
comment  the  mention  of  "  the  latter 
rain  :"  when  the  reference  of  the  pro- 
phet is  supposed  to  be  to  spiritual  rain, 
there  are  special  truths  to  be  gathered 
from  his  speaking  of  "  the  latter  rain  " 
rather  than  of  "  the  former."  We  have 
explained  to  you  that.  "  the  latter  rain  " 
was  that  which  fell  in  the  spring,  and 
which  was  instrumental  to  the  bringing 
the  corn  into  the  ear,  and  filling  it;  so 
that,  if  this  rain  failed,  the  husbandman 
would  be  disappointed  of  his  harvest, 
notwithstanding  all  his  previous  indus- 
try, skill,  and  anxiety.  He  was  indeed 
dependent  also  on  "the  former  rain," 
that  which  fell  at  the  seed-time  ;  for  the 
grain  would  not  germinate,  and  send  up 
the  tender  shoot,  unless  the  ground 
were  watered  by  the  fertilizing  show- 
ers. But  there  would  be  a  yet  more 
bitter  disappointment,  for  there  would 
he  the  utter  loss  of  much  labor,  the 
fruitless  expenditure  of  much  effort  and 
hope,  if  "  the  latter  rain"  were  with- 
held ;  and  consequently,  there  was  even 
greater  reason  for  his  asking  rain  in 
"  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  "  than  in 
that  of  "  the  former  :"  if  "  the   former 


rain "  were  withheld,  he  might  make 
some  other  use  of  his  capital  and  en- 
terprise ;  but  if  "  the  latter,"  his  disas- 
ter scarce  admitted  of  repair. 

Now  without  endeavoring  to  trace 
too  narrowly  the  parallel  to  this  in 
spiritual  things,  we  may  safely  say  that 
there  is  something  very  affecting  and 
admonitory  in  the  mention  of  "  the  lat- 
ter rain."  It  is  the  rain  needed  for  fill- 
ing the  ear,  and  fitting  it  for  the  sickle. 
Take  it  metaphorically,  and  it  is  the 
grace  needed  for  ripening  the  believer, 
and  fitting  him  for  heaven.  The  former 
rain  may  be  considered  that  which  fell 
upon  him  at  his  baptism,  or,  perhaps 
more  accurately,  at  his  conversion,  when 
he  set  himself,  according  to  the  direc- 
tions of  the  prophet,  to  "  break  up  his 
fallow  ground,  and  sow  to  himself  in 
righteousness."  And  he  has  been  en- 
abled, through  the  continued  influences 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  to  bring  forth  "  first 
the  blade,  and  then  the  ear,"  advancing 
in  the  christian  life,  and  adorning  the 
doctrine  of  the  Savior,  But  oh,  there 
is  now  a  danger  of  his  falling  into  se- 
curity, of  his  reckoning  too  confidently 
on  the  harvest,  of  his  concluding  that 
God  will  certainly  complete  a  work  so 
auspiciously  begun,  so  happily  carried 
on,  and  that  he  himself  can  have  noth- 
ing to  do  but  leave  God  to  "  perfect 
that  which  concerneth  "  him.  True,  in- 
deed, it  is  God  alone  who  can  complete 
what  God  alone  commenced ;  and  true 
also  it  is,  that  God  is  not  willing  to  leave 
his  work  unfinished.  But  he  may  with- 
hold "the  latter  rain,"  after  having 
given  "  the  former,"  if  he  see  the  hus- 
bandman presuming  on  a  promise,  in 
place  of  persevering  in  prayer.  He 
does  not  leave  the  husbandman  to  ripen 
the  corn,  just  as  he  did  not  require  of 
him  to  make  the  seed  shoot;  for  there 
is  not  a  single  stage  in  the  great  process 
of  spiritual  renewal,  at  which  it  is  ought 
else  but  God's  grace,  which,  acting  on 
the  heart,  brings  out  features  of  the  im- 
age which  sin  fearfully  defaced.  But 
whilst  it  is  not  with  the  husbandman, 
but  with  God,  to  ripen  the  corn,  God 
may  make  his  ripening  it  depend  on  the 
exercise  of  faith,  and  the  importunity  of 
prayer.  He  may  give  "  the  latter  rain," 
if  the  husbandman,  conscious  of  his  de- 
pendence upon  God  for  the  harvest, 
continue  meekly  to  supplicate  the  neces- 
sary   showers  :    he    may    withhold   that 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


103 


raitti,  if  the  husbandman,  calculating  on 
the  ordinary  course  of  his  dealings, 
grow  remiss  in  petitioning,  and  give  up 
his  fields  to  the  presumed  certainties  of 
the  season. 

There  is  no  point  in  the  life  of  a 
christian,  at  which  he  can  do  without 
the  supply  of  God's  grace ;  none  at 
which  he  can  expect  the  supply,  if  he  be 
not  cultivating  the  spirit  and  habit  of 
prayer.  It  is  not  the  mere  circumstance 
of  his  having  long  followed  the  narrow 
path  of  life,  which  can  be  taken  in  proof 
that  he  will  follow  it  to  the  end.  If  he 
have  hitherto  walked  with  God,  it  has 
been  through  his  having  sought  and  ob- 
tained such  communications  of  the  Di- 
vine Spirit,  as  have  enabled  him  to  main- 
tain his  separation  from  a  world  lying 
in  wickedness.  And  if  he  is  to  persevere 
in  walking  with  God,  it  must  be  through 
perseverance  in  these  acts  of  faith  and 
of  prayer  :  if  he  think  himself  sure  to  go 
on,  because  he  supposes  that  he  has  ac- 
quired a  certain  velocity  which  will 
suffice,  without  further  effort,  to  carry 
him  to  the  end,  alas,  he  shows  only  that, 
even  in  advancing,  he  has  failed  to  ob- 
serve by  what  his  progress  was  caused. 
That  progress  can  never  be  such  that 
he  may  dispense  with  the  assistance, 
without  which  he  could  not  have  made 
a  successful  begining.  There  was  "the 
former  rain,"  else  there  could  not  have 
been  even  the  green  blade  ;  there  must 
be  also  "the  latter  rain,"  else  will  he 
"  bring  no  fruit  to  perfection."  But  it 
is  the  same  thing,  it  is  rain,  which  is 
needed  at  both  times,  or  for  both  ends  : 
there  is  no  change  in  the  instrumental- 
ity ;  he  could  not  have  begun  without 
Divine  grace,  and  Divine  grace  alone 
can  give  completeness  to  the  work. 

This  is  among  the  simplest,  the  most 
elementary  of  doctrines;  and  yet  it  is 
one  of  which  the  believer  requires  to 
be  ofton  and  earnestly  reminded.  When 
a  man  begins  in  religion,  his  conviction 
of  sin,  and  his  sense  of  danger,  conspire 
to  the  urging  him  to  cry  unto  God  for 
assistance  and  guidance.  But  when  he 
has  made  some  way,  there  is  fear  of  his 
forgetting  the  agency  to  which  alone  he 
is  indebted  for  progress.  Or,  if  he  do 
not  forget  the  agency,  he  comes  to  ex- 
pect it  as  a  matter  of  course — as  the 
husbandman  the  rain  at  the  accustomed 
seasons — and  he  grows  more  remiss  in 
prayer  for  God's  Spirit,  even  whilst  re- 


lying on  the  aids  of  that  Spirit.  Be- 
ware of  this,  ye  who  are  growing  old  in 
a  christian  profession.  Ye  are  not  se- 
cure of  having  more  of  God's  Spirit, 
merely  because  ye  have  already  had 
much.  Ye  must  not  slacken  in  prayei 
for  that  Spirit,  because  it  is  only  "  the 
latter  rain"  which  is  now  needed,  and 
you  may  think  that  God  will  be  sure  to 
ripen  what  he  has  so  long  been  cultivat- 
ing. Rather  think  with  yourselves,  how 
grievous  would  it  be  that  the  harvest 
should  be  one  of  shame,  when  the  seed- 
time has  been  one  of  promise  !  How 
sad  to  miss  "  the  latter  rain,"  after  hav- 
ing had  "the  former,"  and  thus  lose  the 
labor  of  years,  when  on  the  point,  it 
may  be,  of  gathering  in  the  sheaves ! 
Oh,  pray  the  more  earnestly,  strive  the 
more  intensely,  the  nearer  you  stand  to 
the  termination  of  your  course.  I  would 
say  to  the  believer,  even  on  his  death- 
bed, a  good  hope,  a  scriptural  hope,  is 
that  which  expresses  itself  in  cries  for 
God's  grace.  Till  you  are  with  God  in 
heaven,  no  language  can  be  so  appro- 
priate as  that  which  entreats  that  God 
would  be  with  you  on  earth.  It  is  in- 
deed "  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  ;"  and 
those  dense  clouds,  which  are  the  her- 
aldry of  dissolution,  are  commonly 
charged  with  showers  of  consolation  ; 
for  God  may  be  expected  to  be  doubly 
with  his  people,  as  they  pass  "  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death."  But 
God  will  still  be  "  inquired  of"  for  what 
he  stands  ready  to  bestow  ;  and  the  best 
confidence  for  the  dying,  as  the  best  for 
the  living,  is  confidence  in  prayer  as 
laying  hold  on  a  promise.  Be  it  then 
"  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  " — "  the 
latter  rain,"  because  but  few  more 
showers  can  be  needed  ;  "  the  time  "  of 
that  rain,  because,  in  his  ordinary  course, 
God  is  then  wont  to  give  largely  of  his 
grace — on  neither  account  slacken  in 
prayer ;  rather,  on  both  accounts,  be 
fervent  in  prayer.  There  is  the  better 
reason  for  expecting  an  answer  to  prayer, 
but  none  for  supposing  that  prayer  is  no 
longer  needed  :  he  alone  can  safely  have 
done  with  offering  prayer  for  grace,  who 
has  begun  the  anthem  of  praise  in  glory; 
and,  therefore,  "  Be  not  weary  in  well- 
doing," but  "  ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain  in 
the  time  of  the  latter  rain." 

But  now  let  us  consider  whether  "the 
time  of  the  latter  rain  "  may  not  be  a 
season  in  the  history  of  the  church,  and 


104 


THE  LATTER  RAIN". 


whether,  when  so  understood,  there  is 
not  a  great  and  neglected  duty  enjoined 
by  the  text.  It  is  certainly  to  be  gathered 
from  the  tenor  <>\'  Scripture,  that,  as  "  the 
time  of  the  end"  approaches,  that  time 
00  which  prophecy  has  thrown  its  most 
emphatic  descriptions,  there  will  be  a 
Bpecial  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Even  the  prediction  of  Joel,  which  St. 
Peter  quotes  as  having  had  reference  to 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Pente- 
cost, would  seem  to  be  still  waiting  an 
ampler  aceomphshmenl  ;  for  the  prophet 
associates  the  promised  gift  of  the  Spirit 
with  the  coming  of  "the  great  and  ter- 
rible .lay  of  the  Lord,"  and  thus  prepares 
us  for  not  expecting  that  gift  in  all  its 
l,,i-  e  ie  >.  until  the  time  shall  be  at  hand 
when  Christ  is  to  reappear,  and  set  up 
visibly  his  throne  on  the  wreck  of  all 
earthly  dominion.  But,  at  all  events, 
there  is  no  dispute  that  the  prophecy 
refers  generally  to  the  christian  dispen- 
sation, and  that  it  assigns,  as  one  of  the 
privileges  of  that  dispensation,  a  larger 
measure  of  spiritual  influence.  When 
St.  Peter  adduces  the  prediction  as  that 
which  was  to  "  come  to  pass  in  the  last 
days,"  he  undoubtedly  applies  it  to  the 
days  in  which  we  live,  as  well  as  to 
those  in  which  he  spake  :  these  must  be 
it  •'  the  last  days,"  whatever  the 
view  taken  of  the  prophetic  chronology; 
and  therefore  are  they  days  to  which 
the  great  promise  belongs,  I  will  pour 
out  of  my  Spirit  upon  all  flesh." 

Hence  the  present  time  is  "the  time 
of  the  latter  rain:"  the  time  of  "the 
former  rain  '*  was  that  of  earlier  and 
preparatory  dispensations,  when  the 
world  was  being  made  ready  lor  a  fuller 
'U  ;  but  no,w  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
litis  entered  specially  on  the  office  of 
guide  and  instructor  to  the  church,  it  is 
the  time  of  "the  latter  rain."  There  is 
to  he  no  higher  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  no  opening  of  more,  direct 
intercourse  between  earth  and  heaven : 
we  are  in  tin:  enjoyment  of  those  final 
advantages  for  securing  happiness  be- 
yond the  grave,   which  were    longed  for, 

but  in  vain,  by  them  on  whom  only 
"the  former  rain"  fell;  many  prophets 
and  kings  having  desired  to  see  the 
things  which  we  see,  and  not  having  seen 
them,  and  to  hear  the  things  which  we 
hear,  and  not  having  heard  them.  But 
though  it  is  thus  "  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain,"  because,  generally,  that  time  must 


include  the  whole  christian  dispensation, 
and  because  perhaps,  in  a  stricter  sense, 
it  must  comprehend  such  clays  as  our 
own,  which  are  not  without  signs  of  the 
second  coming  of  Christ,  yet  it  does  not 
follow  that  "  the  latter  rain  "  will  fall  ; 
as  though  the  heavens  must  be  opened 
merely  because  it  is  the  season  for  the 
showers.  Our  blessed  Savior,  when  de- 
livering counsels  which  were  undoubt- 
edly to  serve  for  the  instruction  of  the 
church  to  "  the  time  of  the  end,"  spake 
thus  in  regard  of  the  Spirit:  "If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts 
unto  your  children,  how  much  more  shall 
your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him."  The  dis- 
pensation which  he  was  introducing,  was 
to  be  emphatically  the  dispensation  of 
the  Spirit  ;  the  dispensation  throughout 
which  the  Spirit  was  to  "  abide  "  as  "  a 
Comforter"  with  the  church;  and  yet, 
you  see,  the  asking  for  that  Spirit  is  still 
made  the  condition  on  which  it  should 
be  given. 

It  is  the  same  as  with  prophecies  of 
the  restoration  of  Israel,  and  with  pro- 
mises of  gladness  and  peace  to  the  long 
exiled  people.  Nowhere  do  you  find 
these  prophecies  and  promises  more 
copiously  uttered  than  in  the  thirty-sixth 
chapter  of  the  book  of  Ezekiel — but 
then,  observe  how  this  chapter  concludes, 
"Thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  will  yet 
for  this  be  inquired  of  by  the  house  of 
Israel,  to  do  it  for  them."  God  had 
just  declared  that  he  would  do  this  and 
that  thing:  he  had  made  no  conditions, 
but  spoken  as  of  a  fixed,  irreversible, 
purpose;  and  nevertheless,  as  if  to  re- 
mind us  of  a  condition,  which  is  always 
involved  if  not  always  expressed,  where 
a  divine  promise  is  passed,  he  adds  that 
he  must  yet  be  "  inquired  of  by  the  house 
of  Israel,"  in  order  to  his  accomplishing 
what  he  had  announced. 

Thus  also  with  regard  to  the  progress 
of  Messiah's  kingdom,  the  march  of 
Christianity  towards  universal  dominion. 
God  hath  promised  great  things.  He 
hath  not  intended  that  the  vast  blessings 
of  redemption  should,  even  in  appear- 
ance, remain  limited  to  certain  sections 
of  the  family  of  man.  Though,  for  wise 
ends,  he  hath  permitted  a  long  struggle 
I  between  darkness  and  light,  he  has  de- 
creed the  termination  of  that  struggle, 
having  given  assurance  of  a  time  when 
all  shall  know  him  "  from  the  least  unto 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


105 


the  greatest,"  when  "  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world"  shall  become  "the  kingdoms 
of  the  Lord  and  his  Christ."  But  he 
will  yet  be  "inquired  of"  for  these  things, 
to  do  them  for  us.  He  requires  of  us 
that  we  exert  ourselves  for  the  spread 
of  Christianity ;  and  he  requires  that  we 
entreat  of  him  the  accomplishment  of 
his  gracious  declarations.  Have  we  not 
failed  in  both  particulars  :  and  perhaps 
even  more  egregiously  in  the  latter  than 
in  the  former  1  Without  pausing  to  ex- 
amine what  proportion  our  efforts  have 
borne  to  our  means,  whether  we  have, 
in  any  due  measure,  employed  our  re- 
sources on  the  arduous,  but  glorious, 
work  of  making  Christ  known  to  the 
heathen,  let  us  inquire  as  to  the  frequency 
and  intenseness  of  our  prayers  for  the 
outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  and 
shall  we  not  find  but  too  much  cause  to 
confess  that  we  have  verily  been  remiss 
in  a  duty,  which  is  second  to  none  in 
urgency,  and  «to  none  in  hopefulness  "? 
The  prosperity  of  the  church  at  home, 
the  progress  of  our  holy  religion  abroad, 
these  are  not  so  much  dependent  on  any 
external  machinery,  as  on  the  quicken- 
ing, renewing,  and  strengthening  influ- 
ences of  the  Holy  Ghost.  "  Not  by 
might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

And  these  influences  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  are  promised  in  answer  to  prayer. 
But  do  we  often  make  them  the  subject 


of 


prayer 


Do  we  in  our  closets,  do 


we  in  our  families,  cry  much  unto  God 
that  he  would  fulfil  his  promises  in  the 
bestowment  of  his  Spirit  1  I  do  believe, 
without  indulging  in  exaggerated  speech, 
that  we  have  in  our  possession  the  means 
of  overthrowing  the  idolatries  of  the 
world,  and  ei-ectingthe  Sanctuary  of  God 
on  the  wreck  of  the  temples  of  heathen- 
ism. But  T  do  not  believe  this,  because 
of  the  magnificent,  the  unequalled,  re- 
sources which  God  in  his  providence, 
has  given  into  our  keeping.  I  do  not 
believe  this,  because  it  may  almost  be 
said  of  our  colonies,  that  they  are  planted 
on  every  land,  and  of  our  fleets,  that 
they  cover  every  sea.  Perish  the  boast- 
ful computations  which,  after  drawing 
out  our  political  and  commercial  ascend- 
ancy, would  infer  that  we  must  be  com- 
petent to  the  covering  the  earth  with 
the  knowledge  of  Christ.  But  I  believe 
this,  because  I  believe  in  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  renew  the  face  of  the 
Vol.  II. 


world,  and  in  the  power  of  prayer  to 
obtain  the  operations  of  that  divine 
agent.  I  believe  this,  because  I  believe 
that  there  is  a  goodly  company  in  our 
land  who  pray  the  prayer  of  faith,  and 
who  have,  therefore,  only  to  be  diligent 
in  asking  "  of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time 
of  the  latter  rain,"  to  insure  the  descent 
of  showers  which  shall  cause  the  waste 
places  to  rejoice,  and  "  blossom  as  the 
rose."  But  if  the  faithful  pray  not  for 
the  rain,  it  will  be  nothing,  as  heretofore 
it  has  done  little  towards  evangelizing 
the  globe,  that  we  have  national  re- 
sources for  the  propagation  of  truth, 
such  as  were  never  yet  committed  to  any 
people  under  heaven.  Some  inconsid- 
erable province,  some  state  undistin- 
guished in  the  scale  of  nations,  unen- 
dowed, to  all  appearance,  with  means 
for  high  enterprise,  may  yet  take  the 
lead  in  the  honored  work  of  subduing 
the  kingdoms  to  the  Lord  our  Redeemer, 
because  it  will  take  the  lead  in  the 
undoubted  duty  of  beseeching  of  God 
to  pour  out  his  Spirit.  Let  us  remember 
and  be  warned  by  this.  Let  each  con- 
sider, and  examine,  whether  he  may 
not  have  verily  been  gulity  herein,  per- 
haps never  praying,  or  praying  but  list- 
lessly and  formally,  for  the  promised 
descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Our  lot  is 
cast  in  the  last  days,  in  "  the  time  of  the 
latter  rain."  We  are  not  without  our 
signs,  in  the  march  of  events,  in  the 
aspect  of  society,  in  the  accomplishment 
of  prophecy,  that  "  the  coming  of  the 
Lord  draweth  nigh."  Now  then  is  the 
time  for  earnest,  united,  importunate 
prayer  for  the  Spirit  of  God.  Wonders 
may  be  accomplished ;  a  nation  may  be 
"  born  in  a  day ;"  "  the  ends  of  the 
earth  may  see  the  salvation  of  the  Lord ;" 
O  "  ye  that  make  mention  of  the  Lord, 
keep  not  silence,  and  give  him  no  rest;" 
"  ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time  of 
the  latter  rain  ;  and  the  Lord  shall  make 
bright  clouds,  and  give  showers  of  rain, 
to  every  one  grass  in  the  field." 

There  is  something  very  beautiful  in 
the  terms  of  this  promise;  but  we  have 
time  only  for  a  hasty  notice.  The  "  bright 
clouds,"  or,  as  the  marginal  reading  has 
it,  "lightnings,"  are  the  harbingers,  or 
forerunners  of  the  rain  ;  and  God,  you 
see,  declares  that  he  will  make  these, 
before  he  sends  the  showers.  Thus  he 
exercises  faith  ;  he  does  not  immediately 
answer  the  prayer,  but  requires  his 
14 


106 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


people  still  to  "wait"  on  him;  he  will 
"  make  bright  clouds "  for  their  en- 
couragement, but  they  must  persevere 
in  supplication  if  they  would  have 
showers  for  their  refreshment.  Ay,  and 
to  them  that  "  wait  upon  the  Lord," 
there  may  be  clouds,  but  are  they  not 
"  bright  clouds  V  the  stripes  of  light 
are  painted  on  their  darkness ;  the 
murkiest  cloud  which  can  rise  on  the 
firmament  of  the  believer  has  a  gilded 
side  :  "  the  Sun  of  righteousness  "  shines 
on  it ;  and  so  truly  is  the  time  of  tears 
the  time  also  of  "  the  latter  rain,"  that, 
if  these  "bright  clouds"  betoken  a  sea- 
son of  affliction,  they  are  quickly  followed 
by  communications  of  grace.  God  may 
bring  the  cloud  over  his  people,  and  as 
Elihu  saith,  "  Men  see  not  the  bright 
light  which  is  in  the  clouds  ;"  but  if  the 
world  see  it  not,  the  believer  may;  and 
God  brings  the  cloud,  that  its  brightness 
being  acknowledged,  in  and  through  the 
acknowledgement  of  his  doing  all  things 
well,  he  may  then  send  "a  gracious  rain 
on  his  inheritance,  and  refresh  it  when 
it  is  weary." 

And  the  showers  which  God  sends  are 
for  the  clothing  with  richer  verdure  his 
garden,  which  is  the  church.  "  To  every 
one  grass  in  the  field."     We  may  receive 


the  Spirit ;  but  we  do  but  grieve,  we  do 
but  quench  it,  if  its  influence  be  not 
visible  on  our  walk  and  conversation. 
If  there  be  not  more  and  brighter  grass 
in  the  field,  we  deceive  ourselves  if  we 
think  that  there  can  be  more  of  saving 
grace  in  the  heart. 

But  how  large  is  the  promise — "  To 
every  one  grass  in  the  field."  Here  is 
evidence  that  "  the  time  of  the  latter 
!  rain"  is  especially  that  "time  of  the  end" 
when  falsehood  is  at  length  to  give  way 
before  truth,  and  the  trials  of  Christianity 
are  to  issue  in  its  triumph.  "  To  every 
one  grass  in  the  field," — all  shall  know 
the  Lord,  all  shall  be  righteous.  Blessed 
and  glorious  prospect !  There  may  be 
reason  for  thinking  that  the  regenerated 
earth  shall  be  enamelled  with  the  love- 
liness which  sparkled  in  paradise,  ere 
the  dark  blight  of  sin  dimmed  the  lustre; 
but,  at  the  least,  here  is  a  moral  verdure 
of  surpassing  richness,  and  I  ask  not  the 
visions  of  a  material  luxuriance,  when 
we  have  thus  the  assurance  of  an  uni- 
versal righteousness.  O  Spirit  of  the 
living  God,  the  parched  and  stricken 
earth  waits  thy  descent :  come  down, 
in  answer  to  our  prayers,  that  the  val- 
leys and  mountains  may  no  longer  lie 
waste. 


SERMON    XII 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


And  if  any  man  say  aught  unto  you,  ye  shall  say,  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them,  and  straightway  ho  will  *end 
them." — Matthew  xxi.  3. 


You  will  all  probably  remember  the 
portion  of  our  Lord's  history  with  which 
these  words  are  connected.  Christ 
was  about  to  make  his  last  entry  into 
Jerusalem,  where  he  was  to  seal  his 
doctrine  with  his  death,  and  offer  him- 


self in  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 
There  was  a  prophecy  which  had  dis- 
tinctly announced  that  the  Messiah  should 
enter  the  city  "  riding  upon  an  ass,  and 
upon  a  colt,  the  foal  of  an  ass."  That 
this  prophecy  might  not  be  unfulfilled, 


THE  LOWLY    EltRAND. 


107 


our  Lord  determined  to  make  his  ap- 
proach to  Jerusalem  in  the  manner  which 
Zechariah  had  indicated. 

In  order  to  this,  we  read  that  when 
they  "  were  come  to  Bethphage,  unto  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  then  sent  Jesus  two 
disciples,  saying  unto  them,  Go  into  the 
village  over  against  you,  and  straightway 
ye  shall  find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with 
her:  loose  them,  and  bring  them  unto 
me."  The  remainder  of  the  direction 
is  contained  in  our  text.  The  thing 
enjoined  on  the  disciples  had  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  act  of  robbery  ;  and  it 
might  well  be  expected  that  they  would 
encounter  opposition.  But  Christ  pro- 
vided against  this,  telling  them  what  an- 
swer to  make  if  any  one  questioned  their 
right  to  the  ass  and  the  colt,  and  assuring 
them  that  this  answer  would  save  them 
from  molestation.  And  so  it  came  to  pass. 
The  disciples  went  as  they  had  been  di- 
rected ;  the  ass  and  colt  were  found  at 
the  precise  spot  which  had  been  de- 
scribed ;  the  owners  interfered  to  preveut 
what  seemed  like  the  seizing  of  their 
property  ;  but  the  simple  words  with 
which  Christ  had  furnished  his  mes- 
sengers removed  all  objections,  and  the 
ass  and  colt  were  allowed  to  depart. 

This  is  one  of  those  occurrences  to 
which  we  may  easily  fail  to  attach  due 
importance,  and  which  contain  instruc- 
tion not  to  be  detected  by  a  cursory 
glance.  The  more  prominent  events  in 
the  history  of  Jesus,  the  great  things 
which  befell  him,  and  the  wonderful 
which  he  wrought,  attract  and  fix  atten- 
tion; and  we  perhaps  labor  to  extract 
from  them  the  lessons  with  which  they 
are  fraught.  But  minute  things  we  may 
comparatively  overlook,  and  so  lose  much 
which  is  calculated  to  strengthen  faith  or 
regulate  practice.  Possibly,  there  is  often 
as  much  to  admire  and  imitate,  where 
there  is  little  of  show  in  the  outward 
action  and  duty,  as  where  the  thing  done 
overwhelms  us  by  its  magnificence,  or 
that  enjoined  by  its  arduousness.  Every 
one  stands  in  amazement  by  the  grave 
of  Lazarus,  and  looks  with  awe  on  the 
Redeemer  as,  with  a  single  word,  he  re- 
animates the  dead.  But  few  may  pause 
to  acknowledge  equal  tokens  of  super- 
human ability,  as  Christ  sends  Peter  to 
find  a  piece  of  money  in  the  mouth  of  a 
fish,  or  two  of  his  disciples  to  bring  an 
ass  from  the  neighboring  village.  Every 
one  admits  the  greatness  of  the  obedi- 


ence when  Levi  abandons  the  receipt  of 
custom,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  injunc- 
tion, when  the  young  man  is  bidden  to 
sell  the  whole  of  his  possessions.  But 
few,  comparatively,  may  observe  how 
christian  obedience  was  taxed,  when 
apostles  were  sent  on  such  an  errand  as 
is  now  to  be  reviewed,  or  when  the 
owners  of  the  ass  and  the  colt  surren- 
dered them  on  being  told  that  they  were 
needed  by  Christ.  Let  us,  then,  devote 
a  discourse  to  the  considering  an  incident 
which  is  less  likely  than  many  to  attract 
by  its  evident  vvonderfulness  ;  but  which 
may  be  found,  on  inquiry,  to  attest  most 
decisively  the  mission  of  Christ,  and  to 
furnish  lessons  of  the  first  moment  to 
ourselves. 

Now  the  Evangelist,  so  soon  as  he 
has  related  how  Jesus  sent  his  disciples 
on  the  errand  in  question,  remarks  :  "All 
this  was  done  that  it  might  be  fulfilled 
which  was  spoken  by  the  prophet,"  and 
then  proceeds  to  quote  the  words  of 
Zechariah.  Here  the  representation 
undoubtedly  is,  that  Jesus  sent  for  the 
ass  and  the  colt  on  purpose  that  he 
might  accomplish  an  ancient  prediction, 
which,  by  universal  consent,  had  respect 
to  the  Messiah.  An  impostor  would 
have  done  the  same.  Had  a  deceiver 
arisen,  professing  to  be  the  Christ,  he 
would  of  course  have  endeavored  to  es- 
tablish a  correspondence  between  him- 
self and  the  deliverer  whom  seers  had 
beheld  in  their  visions.*  Wheresoever 
the  thing  predicted  were  such  that  its 
seeming  accomplishment  might  be  con- 
trived, he  would  naturally  have  set  him- 
self to  the  bringing  round  what  should 
pass  for  fulfilment.  And  certainly  the 
prophecy  of  Zechariah  is  one  which  a 
false  Christ  might  have  managed  to  ac- 
complish. There  was  nothing  easier 
than  to  have  arranged  for  entering  Jeru- 
salem in  the  manner  indicated  by  the 
prophet :  any  one  who  pretended  to  be 
the  Christ,  and  who  knew  that  the  riding 
into  the  city  on  an  ass  was  one  appointed 
sign  of  the  Christ,  could  have  taken  care 
that  this  sign  at  least  should  be  his,  what- 
ever the  particulars  in  which  he  might 
fail  to  give  proof.  We  do  not,  then, 
bring  Christ's  entering  Jerusalem  in  the 
manner  foretold  by  Zechariah,  as  any 
convincing  evidence  of  the  truth  of  his 
pretensions  :  there  was,  indeed,  the  ac- 

*  See  Sermon  8. 


10S 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


complishment  of  a  prophecy,  but  it  was 
a  prophecy  of  which  on  the  showing  of 
the  Evangelist,  Jesus  himself  arranged 
the  accomplishment,  and  which  an  im- 
postor  mighf,  without  difficulty,  have 
equally  fulfilled.  It  was  necessary  that 
the  thing  predicted  should  come  to  pass, 
otherwise,  as  you  must  all  see,  there 
would  have  been  a  flaw  in  the  creden- 
tials of  our  Lord  :  for  as  the  riding  on 
the  ass  into  Jerusalem  had  been  distinctly 
foretold,  he  could  not  have  been  the 
Christ  had  he  not  thus  entered  the  city. 
Hence  the  accomplishment  of  the  pro- 
phecy in  question  prevented  an  objection 
rather  than  furnished  a  proof:  it  pre- 
vented an  objection,  because  the  not  hav- 
ing ridden  into  Jerusalem  might  have 
been  urged  in  evidence  that  Jesus  could 
not  be  the  Christ :  but  it  furnished  no 
proof,  because  a  deceiver  might  have 
contrived  to  make  his  entry  as  the  pro- 
phet had  announced. 

But  if  we  may  not  dwell  on  the  inci- 
dent before  us  as  proving  Christ  divine 
through  the  witness  of  fulfilled  prophecy, 
let  us  consider  whether  there  be  not  the 
witness  of  more  than  human  prescience 
and  power.  And  here,  again,  we  must 
proceed  with  caution  and  limitation.  For 
just  as  there  may  be  contrivance  to  pro- 
duce the  apparent  accomplishment  of 
prophecy,  there  may  be  to  effect  the  ap- 
parent display  of  supernatural  attributes. 
There  was — at  least  there  may  have 
been,  a  display  of  superhuman  know- 
ledge and  power.  Christ  told  his  dis- 
ciples, with  the  greatest  minuteness, 
where  they  should  find  the  animals,  and 
what  words  would  induce  the  owners  to 
allow  their  being  taken.  If  you  read 
the  accounts  in  the  several  Evangelists, 
you  will  perceive  that  he  went  into  the 
nicest  particulars.  There  was  to  be  an 
ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with  her.  The  colt 
was  to  be  one  on  which  never  man  had 
sat.  The  place  was  to  be  immediately 
on  entering  the  village,  and  where  two 
ways  met.  The  owners  were  to  make 
objection,  but  to  withdraw  that  objection 
on  being  told,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of 
them."  Now,  if  this  were  not  miracle, 
the  owners  having  been  supernaturally 
acted  on,  was  it  not  prophecy  '?  Christ 
predicted  certain  occurrences,  and  when 
all  came  to  pass  as  he  had  said,  was  there 
not  proof  of  his  being  gifted  with  more 
than  human  foresight?  Yes;  if  the 
whole  were  not   contrived   and   pre-ar- 1 


ranged.  And  it  might  have  been.  "What 
easier  than  for  an  impostor  and  his  con- 
federates to  have  managed  the  whole 
affair  ?  The  impostor  might  have  agreed 
with  his  confederates,  that  they  should 
be  in  waiting  at  a  certain  place  with  cer- 
tain animals,  and  that,  on  receiving  a 
certain  message,  they  should  surrender 
those  animals.  And  thus  might  he  have 
acquired  for  himself  the  reputation  of  a 
prophet,  though  there  would  have  been 
nothing  in  the  whole  transaction  but 
trick  and  collusion. 

Let  us  consider,  however,  whether  the 
supposition  of  trick  and  collusion  can  be, 
in  any  measure,  sustained  under  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case.  Had  the  owners 
of  the  ass  been  confederate  with  Christ, 
they  must  have  been  of  the  number  of 
his  followers  or  adherents.  But  then 
they  would,  almost  necessarily,  have 
been  known  to  the  disciples  whom  Jesus 
sent,  and  thus  the  whole  deception  would 
have  been  instantly  exposed.  For  you 
are  to  observe,  that,  if  any  were  to  be 
convinced  or  persuaded  by  the  prescience 
displayed,  it  must  have  been  the  disci- 
ples ;  no  others,  so  far  as  we  know, 
were  acquainted  with  what  we  may  call 
Christ's  prediction.  But  no  effect  could 
have  been  wrought  on  the  disciples,  had 
not  the  owners  of  the  ass  been  strangers 
to  Jesus  ;  and,  if  strangers,  they  could 
not  have  been  leagued  with  him  to  effect 
a  deceit. 

Whilst,  therefore,  we  readily  allow 
that  there  was  that  in  the  things  predicted 
and  performed  which  might  have  given 
place  for  imposture,  we  contend  that  the 
circumstances  exclude  the  supposition 
of  imposture,  and  leave  room  for  nothing 
but  belief  that  Christ  really  prophesied, 
and  that  events  proved  his  prophecy 
truth.  And  having  satisfied  ourselves 
that  there  could  not  have  been  deception 
or  collusion,  we  may  admire  the  pre- 
science and  power  displayed,  and  derive 
from  them  fresh  witness  to  the  dignity 
of  our  Lord.  We  have  pointed  out  to 
you  how  the  prophecy  descended  into 
the  minutest  particulars,  and  it  is  this  ac- 
curacy of  detail  which  makes  prophecy 
wonderful.  A  great  occurrence  may 
often  be  conjectured  through  human 
sagacity  ;  a  keen  observer  will  mark  the 
shadows  thrown  by  coming  events,  and 
give  notices  of  those  events,  which  time 
shall  accurately  verify.  But  the  difficulty 
is  to  go  into  trifles,  to  foreknow  things 


THE    LOWLY  ERRAND. 


109 


trifling  in  themselves,  or  their  trifling 
accidents  and  accompaniments.  I  am 
really  more  struck  at  the  foreknowledge 
of  Christ,  when  sending  his  disciples  for 
the  ass  and  the  colt,  than  when  announc- 
ing the  desolations  which  should  come 
upon  Jerusalem.  Circumstanced  as  the 
Jews  were  in  regard  of  the  Romans, 
subjected  to  their  empire  but  galled  by 
the  yoke,  a  far-sighted  politician  might 
have  conjectured  the  arrival  of  the  time 
when  rebellion  would  make  the  eagle 
swoop  down  to  the  slaughter.  But  that 
an  ass  and  her  foal  should  be  found,  at  a 
certain  moment,  on  a  certain  spot — that 
the  owners  would  allow  them  to  be 
taken  away  on  the  utterance  of  certain 
words,  which  even  a  thief  might  have 
used — indeed,  there  may  not  be  as  much 
majesty  in  such  a  prophecy,  as  when 
the  theme  is  a  conqueror's  march  or  an 
empire's  fall,  but  I  know  not  whether 
there  be  not  more  marvel,  if  you  judge 
by  the  room  given  for  a  shrewd  guess 
or  a  sagacious  surmise. 

There  was  miracle,  moreover,  as  well 
as  prophecy.  I  can  count  it  nothing 
less  than  a  miracle  wrought  upon  mind, 
that  men,  in  all  probability  poor  men, 
were  willing  to  give  up  their  property 
at  the  bidding  of  strangers,  and  with  no 
pledge  for  its  return.  You  can  hardly 
explain  this  but  on  the  supposition  of  a 
superhuman  influence  ;  so  that  Christ, 
who  had  before  showed  his  power  over 
matter  at  a  distance,  by  healing  the  cen- 
turion's son  without  going  to  his  house, 
now  showed  his  power  over  mind  at  a 
distance,  by  constraining  men  to  act 
without  bringing  them  to  hear.  Hence, 
we  can  declare  the  incident  before  us  a 
singular  exhibition  of  the  power  of  pro- 
phecy and  the  power  of  miracle ;  an 
exhibition,  moreover,  as  appropriate  as 
it  was  striking.  We  can  suppose  that 
our  Redeemer,  knowing  the  bitter  trials 
to  which  his  disciples  were  about  to  be 
exposed,  desired  to  give  them  some 
proof  of  his  superhuman  endowments, 
which  might  encourage  them  to  rely  on 
his  protection  when  he  should  no  longer 
be  visibly  amongst  them.  What  shall 
be  the  proof?  shall  he  control  the  tumult- 
uous elements  ]  shall  he  summon  legions 
of  angels  ?  shall  he  shake  Jerusalem 
with  the  earthquake  !  shall  he  divide  the 
Jordan  1  Nay,  it  was  not  by  any  stu- 
pendous demonstration  that  the  timid 
disciples    were    likely    to     be    assured. 


They  rather  required  to  be  taught  that 
the  knowledge  and  power  of  their  Master 
extended  to  mean  and  inconsiderable 
things ;  for  hence  they  would  learn,  that 
though  poor  and  despised,  they  should 
not  be  overlooked,  but  engage  his  pro- 
tection and  care.  They  wanted  evidence 
that  his  presence  was  not  needful  in  order 
to  his  guardianship,  but  that  he  could  act 
on  their  enemies  as  well  when  at  a  dis- 
tance as  when  near.  And  the  more 
magnificent  miracle  might  not  have  cer- 
tified them  on  the  points  on  which  they 
thus  needed  assurance.  But  this  was 
done  by  an  exhibition  of  prescience  in 
regard  to  an  animal  and  of  power  over 
its  owner.  He  who  could  be  taking 
cognizance  of  the  place  of  an  ass  and 
her  foal,  would  not  fail  to  observe  the 
position  of  the  poor  fishermen,  his  fol- 
lowers;  he  who  could  influence  those 
who  saw  him  not  to  surrender  their 
property,  would  put  forth  control  over 
persecutors  when  he  had  returned  to  the 
heavens. 

And  therefore  do  we  call  upon  you 
to  admire  the  transaction  under  review, 
not  only  because  it  displayed  superhu- 
man knowledge  and  power,  but  display- 
ed them  in  the  manner  best  adapted  to 
the  circumstances  of  those  for  whose 
benefit  it  took  place.  Our  blessed  Sa- 
vior repeated  the  kind  of  display,  as 
though  feeling  its  special  suitableness 
to  his  disciples,  when  he  indicated  the 
place  for  eating  the  passover,  by  the 
meeting  a  man  "  bearing  a  pitcher  of 
water."  The  ass  and  the  colt  might 
have  been  procured  without  all  this  la- 
bored and  circuitous  process.  But  Je- 
sus, contemplating  the  fulfilment  of  an 
ancient  prediction,  would  have  it  fulfil- 
led through  such  means  as  should 
strengthen  the  faith  of  the  dejected 
followers,  who  were  soon  to  be  separat- 
ed from  him.  He  might  in  a  moment, 
by  an  act  of  creative  power,  have  pro- 
duced the  creatures  of  which  he  stood 
in  need.  Or  he  might  have  summoned 
the  chief  priests  and  scribes,  and  con- 
strained them,  however  much  against 
their  will,  to  provide  for  his  triumphant, 
yet  humiliating,  entry.  And  in  such 
methods  there  might  have  been  more 
that  was  calculated  to  dazzle  and  amaze. 
But  if  the  despised  were  to  be  taught 
that  meanness  could  not  hide  from  his 
notice,  and  the  deserted  that  distance 
could  not  withdraw  from  his  protection, 


110 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND 


then,  indeed,  nothing  could  have  been 
more  appropriate  than  the  transaction 
before  us.  It  might  have  been  a  loftier 
bidding,  Go  ye  to  the  wilderness  and 
command  hither  the  untamed  thing 
which  "  scbfneth  the  multitude  of*  the 
city,  neither  regurdeth  he  the  crying  of 
tin"-  driver;  "  or,  "  Go  ye  to  the  Sanhe- 
drim, and  demand  of  the  haughty  assem- 
bly that  they  furnish  my  humble  equi- 
page, and  so  enahle  me  to  fulfil  prophe- 
cies which  shall  witness  against  them;  " 
but  there  was  immeasurably  more  of 
regard  for  the  wants  of  his  disciples, 
more  of  tender  consideration,  more  of 
gracious  forethought,  in  the  directions 
before  us,  "  Go  ye  into  the  village  :  ye 
shall  find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with 
her:  loose  them,  and  say,  The  Lord 
hath  need  of  them." 

Now,  up  to  this  point  we  have  exam- 
ined the  transaction  with  reference  to 
our  Savior,  considering  only  the  pre- 
scieace  and  power  displayed,  together 
with  the  wisdom  and  goodness  that  may 
be  traced  in  the  mode  of  display.  Let 
us  now  turn  to  the  conduct  of  the  disci- 
pit^,  ami  see  whether  there  be  not  much 
to  deserve  our  imitation. 

It  does  not  appear  that  there  was  any 
hesitation  as  to  the  obeying  a  command 
which  might  naturally  have  been  heard 
with  some  measure  of  repugnance. 
The  disciples  were  to  goon  what  might 
have  passed  for  a  wild  errand.  Was  it 
likely  that  they  should  find  the  ass  and 
the  colt  just  where  Christ  said  I  If 
they  did,  how  were  they  to  obtain  pos- 
ses-inn .'  what  was  it  but  robbery  to  at- 
tempt to  remove  them  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  owners  1  and  if  the 
owners  should  be  standing  by,  what 
could  Ik;  expected  from  them  but  insult 
and  violence'  what  probability  was 
there  that  they  would  lit;  influenced  by 
.such  words  as  Christ  directed  to  be  u^ed  I 
It  can  hardly  be  questioned  that  most 
of  us  would  have  been  ready  with  these 
doubts  and  objections.  We  invent  rea- 
sons enough  tor  hesitating,  or  refusing 
to  obey,  when  there  is  not  half  so  much 
of  plausible  excuse  for  avoiding  a  pre- 
scribed path  of  duty.  How  difficult  do 
we  find  it  to  take  God  at  his  word,  to 
show  our  faith  in  a  promise  by  fulfilling 
its  condition  !  We  will  not  go  to  the 
place  where  the  6W0  ways  meet,  on  the 
simple  assurance  that  we  shall  there 
find  what  we  seek  ;  we  want  some  more 


sensible  evidence  as  to  the  animals  be- 
ing there,  before  we  adventure  on  what 
may  only  disappoint.  And  if  we  are  to 
be  exposed  to  misconstruction  or  op- 
probrium, if  the  thing  which  we  are  call- 
ed upon  to  do  be  likely  to  bring  re- 
proach, or  give  occasion  for  calumny, 
what  a  shrinking  is  there!  what  a  re- 
luctance !  The  positive  command  of 
Christ  would  hardly  suffice,  if  it  required 
what  an  ill-natured  world  might  liken 
to  robbery.  Not  that,  in  obeying  the 
Divine  law,  we  shall  ever  give  just 
cause  for  opprobrious  reflection  :  the 
command  might  be  to  take  the  ass  and 
the  foal,  but  God  would  provide  that  the 
taking  them  should  not  bring  disgrace 
upon  religion.  But  this  it  is  for  which 
we  cannot  trust  him  :  we  doubt  whether 
there  will  be  any  such  power  in  the 
words,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them," 
as  will  secure  us  from  violence  or  malice  1 
and  therefore,  we  either  decline  the  duty 
altogether,  or  enter  on  it  with  a  hesita- 
tion, and  want  of  faith,  which  may  them- 
selves produce  the  results  of  which  we 
are  in  dread. 

It  was  not  thus  with  the  first  disci- 
ples ;  and  we  should  do  well  to  en- 
deavor to  imitate  their  obedience.  It 
seems,  with  them,  to  have  been  enough 
that  the  duty  was  clear,  as  enjoined  by 
a  plain  command  of  their  Master ;  and 
immediately  they  "  conferred  not  with 
flesh  and  blood,"  hearkened  not  to  car- 
nal suggestions,  but  acted  as  men  who 
knew  that  compliance  was  their  part, 
and  the  removal  of  difficulties  God's. 
Thus  should  it  be  with  us  ;  we  should 
have  but  one  object,  that  of  satisfying 
ourselves,  from  the  prayerful  study  of 
Scripture,  whether  this  action  be  light 
or  that  action  wrong;  when  the  decision 
is  reached,  there  should  be  no  hesitation 
in  regard  either  of  consequences  or 
means  ;  what  God  has  made  it  incum- 
bent on  us  to  do,  he  will  enable  us  to 
perform  :  what  he  requires  us  to  give 
up,  he  will  not  suffer  us  to  want.  If  he 
send  us  to  the  place  where  the  two  ways 
meet,  it  shall  be  only  our  faithlessness 
which  can  prevent  our  there  finding 
what  we  seek  ;  and  if  his  bidding  seem 
to  expose  us  to  the  being  called  robbers, 
he  will  see  his  will  so  executed  as  to 
silence  the  adversary. 

And  then  it  is  well  worthy  of  remark 
that  it  looked  like  an  ignoble  errand  on 
which    the    disciples    were    dispatched. 


THE   LOWLY  ERRAND. 


Ill 


When  sent  to  preach  the  Gospel  in  the 
cities  of  Juciea,  there  was  something 
illustrious  in  the  commission  ;  we  can 
imagine  them  going  forth,  sustained  in 
part  by  the  lofty  consciousness  of  being 
messengers  from  heaven,  charged  with 
tidings  of  unrivalled  importance.  But 
to  be  sent  to  a  village  in  quest  of  an  ass 
and  her  foal ;  what  an  indignity,  it  might 
almost  have  been  said,  for  men  on  whom 
had  been  bestowed  supernatural  powers, 
who  had  been  intrusted,  not  only  with 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  but  with 
the  ability  to'  work  wonders  in  proof 
of  its  truth.  Probably  they  were  not 
aware  of  Christ's  reasons  for  sending 
them  on  such  an  errand;  it  might  have 
thrown  a  sort  of  splendor  about  the 
commission,  had  they  known  that  an- 
cient prophecy  was  to  be  thereby  ac- 
complished. But  it  was  not  until  after 
his  resurrection  that  Christ  expounded 
unto  his  disciples  "in  all  the  Scriptures 
the  things  concerning  himself."  It  may, 
therefore,  have  been  that  they  whom  he 
despatched,  had  no  idea  whatsoever  of 
being  instrumental  to  fulfilling  a  famous 
prediction,  but  went  about  the  business 
in  ignorance  of  all  that  might  have  re- 
deemed it  from  apparent  ignobleness. 
The  opinion  of  many  is,  that  the  two 
disciples  were  Peter  and  John,  men 
who  had  accompanied  the  Redeemer  to 
Tabor,  and  witnessed  the  wondrous 
seene  of  his  transfiguration.  What  a 
change  was  here  !  to  have  been  selected, 
at  one  time,  to  go  to  meet  Moses  and 
Elias,  emerging  in  glory  from  the  in- 
visible world  ;  and  at  another,  to  go  in- 
to a  village,  and  find  an  ass  and  her 
foal  for  their  Master.  But  it  was  for 
their  Master,  and  this  sufficed.  It  mat- 
tered nothing  to  them  on  what  they 
were  employed,  provided  only  it  was 
Christ  by  whom  they  were  employed. 
That,  they  felt,  could  not  be  degrading 
which  he  commanded  ;  nor  that  unim- 
portant by  which  he  might  be  served. 
Oh  for  something  of  the  like  spirit 
amongst  ourselves — a  readiness  to  fill 
the  lower  offices  as  well  as  the  chief,  a 
disposition  to  count  it  honor  enough  to 
be  useful  to  Christ,  in  whatever  capaci- 
ty !  How  many  are  there  who  can  be 
active  and  earnest  in  what  is  great  and 
imposing,  and  take  the  lead  in  enter- 
prises for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel,  who, 
nevertheless,  have  no  taste  for  humbler 
duties,  duties  to  be  discharged  in    the 


hovel  of  poverty,  and  at  the  bedside  of 
sickness  !  This  is  willingness  to  be  the 
disciple,  whilst  Judea  has  to  be  traver- 
sed, with  all  the  insignia  of  an  ambassa- 
dor from  God,  and  unwillingness,  when 
the  ass  and  the  colt  are  to  be  fetched 
from  the  village.  How  many  can  heark- 
en gladly  to  religion,  whilst  discourse 
turns  only  on  lofty  things,  on  commun- 
ings with  Deity,  on  manifestations  of 
heaven,  who  yet  feel  impatience,  and 
even  disgust,  when  there  is  mention  of 
a  cross  to  be  borne,  and  reproach  to  be 
braved.  And  what  is  this  but  readiness 
to  follow  Christ  to  the  mount,  when  he 
is  about  to  assume  glorious  apparel,  and 
shine  forth  in  the  majesty  which  is  es- 
sentially his  own,  but  refusal  to  act  in 
his  service  when  he  requires  the  mean 
animal,  which  is  likely  to  procure  him 
the  scorn  of  the  proud  1 

Indeed  it  is  a  prime  truth,  but  one 
which  we  are  all  slow  to  learn,  that 
there  is  no  employment  which  is  not  en- 
nobled through  being  employment  for 
Christ,  and  that  it  is  not  genuine  Chris- 
tianity which  selects  what  it  likes,  and 
leaves  what  it  dislikes.  If  we  have  the 
love  of  Christ  in  our  hearts,  it  will  be 
our  dominant  desire  to  promote  his  cause 
and  perform  his  will  ;  and  though  the 
dominance  of  this  desire  may  not  prevent 
our  feeling  that  we  should  prefer  one 
sphere  of  labor  to  another,  or  enter  with 
greater  alacrity  on  this  course  than  on 
that,  it  will  certainly  produce  readiness 
for  every  variety  of  duty,  for  fetching 
the  colt  on  which  Christ  may  ride,  as 
well  as  for  rearing  the  temple  in  which 
he  may  dwell.  And  we  set  before  you 
the  example  of  the  Apostles  in  a  particu- 
lar, in  which,  possibly,  it  is  often  over- 
looked. We  show  you  how,  without 
the  least  hesitation,  these  holy  men  set 
themselves  to  the  obeying  a  command, 
against  which  they  might  have  offered 
very  plausible  objections,  objections 
drawn  not  only  from  the  little  likelihood 
of  success,  but  from  the  almost  certain 
exposure  to  reproach  and  disgrace.  We 
show  you  also  how  it  was  required  of 
them  to  come  down,  so  to  speak,  from 
their  loftier  occupation,  and  perform 
what  might  be  called  a  menial  service; 
and  with  what  alacrity  they  complied ; 
the  very  men  to  whom  spirits  were  sub- 
ject, and  who  had  been  ordained  to 
wage  God's  war  with  the  powers  of 
darkness,  being  directed,  and  being  wil- 


112 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


ling,  to  go  on  an  errand  to  which  the 
meanest  were  equal.  The  disciples 
were  never'  worthier  of  imitation  than 
in  this.  Think  of  them  when  a  duty  is 
proposed  to  you  from  which  you  recoil, 
because  there  seems  but  little  to  en- 
courage, and  you  must,  moreover,  he 
liable  to  opposition  and  calumny.  Is 
it  apparently  a  less  hopeful  thing  which 
you  have  to  take  in  hand,  than  the  finding 
bo  many  contingencies  satisfied  as  were 
to  meet,  if  the  two  disciples  succeeded] 
the  animals  of  the  right  kind,  standing 
at  a  certain  place,  and  at  a  certain  time, 
the  owners  consenting  to  their  removal 
without  receiving  price  or  security.  And 
can  the  doing  what  is  bidden  expose 
you  to  more  of  opposition  and  calumny 
than  seemed  to  threaten  the  disciples, 
who  were  to  take  the  property  of  others, 
and  thus  run  the  risk  of  being  regarded 
and  treated  as  robbers?  Think,  more- 
over, of  these  disciples  when  you  either 
long  for  more  honored  employment  than 
has  been  allotted  you  by  God,  or  are 
tempted  to  decline  any  duty  as  beneath 
you,  and  fitted  only  for  such  as  are  in- 
ferior in  office.  They  were  probably, 
among  the  mightiest  of  Apostles  who 
went  into  a  village  to  loosen,  and  lead 
away  an  ass  and  her  foal,  at  the  bidding 
of  Christ.  Ah,  it  were  easy  to  exhibit 
the  disciples  under  a  more  imposing  point 
of  view,  and  you  might  feel  it  a  stir- 
ring thing  to  be  bidden  to  imitate  these 
first  preachers  of  Christianity,  as  they 
throw  themselves  into  combat  with  the 
idolatries  of  the  world.  But  the  hard  thing 
is  to  obey  ( Ihristonthe  simple  warrant  of 
his  word,  without  objecting  the  difficul- 
ties or  computing  the  consequences.  The 
hard  thing  is,  to  be  willing  to  be  as  no- 
thing, so  long  as  you  may  be  useful  in  the 
church;  to  be  content  with  the  lowest 
place  in  the  household  of  the  Lord,  yea, 
to  think  it  honor  to  be  vile,  if  it  be  in- 
deed in  Christ's  cause.  And  wishing  to 
urge  you,  by  the  example  of  Apostles, 
to  what  is  hardest  in  duty,  we  do  not 
array  these  men  before  you  in  their  lofty 
enterprise  of  enlightening  ignorance,  and 
overthrowing  superstition;  we  remind 
yon  who  they  were,  how  commissioned, 
how  endowed,  and  how  exalted;  and 
then  we  bid  you  ponder  their  instant 
obedience  to  the  command,  "Go  into 
the  village;  straightway  ye  shall  find  an 
ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with  her;  loose  them 
and  bring  them  unto  me." 


But  if  there  were  much  worthy  of 
being  admired  and  imitated  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  disciples,  what  are  we  to  say 
to  that  of  the  owners  of  the  ass  and  the 
colt  1  It  were  beside  our  purpose  to  in- 
quire into  the  circumstances  or  character 
of  these  men.  Indeed  we  have  no  mate- 
rial for  such  an  inquiry,  as  we  are  not 
told  whether  they  had  any  knowledge 
of  Christ,  and  can  therefore  but  conjec- 
ture their  treatment  of  his  pretensions. 
Thus  much,  however,  is  certain — they 
opposed  the  removal  of  their  property, 
but  immediately  withdrew  their  opposi- 
tion, on  hearing  the  words,  "  The  Lord 
hath  need  of  them."  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  they  understood  the  disciples  as 
referring  to  Christ  under  the  name  of 
"the  Lord,"  or  whether  they  applied 
the  name  to  God;  for  the  disciples 
were  not  instructed  to  say,  "Our  Lord 
hath  need  of  them" — which  would  have 
fixed  the  message  to  Christ — but  "  The 
Lord,"  a  form  of  expression  which 
is  used  absolutely  of  Deity,  as  well  as 
of  the  Mediator.  It  is  not  improbable, 
therefore,  that  the  owners  considered 
that  their  property  was  demanded  from 
them  in  the  name  of  the  Almighty,  and 
that,  secretly  influenced  to  regard  the 
demand  as  having  actually  proceeded 
from  God,  they  immediately  and  unhesi- 
tatingly complied.  At  all  events,  if  it 
were  to  Christ  that  they  made  the  sur- 
render, they  made  it  to  him  under  the 
title  of  "the  Lord" — thus  recognizing 
a  right  superior  to  their  own,  and  con- 
fessing in  him  that  authority  which  be- 
longs only  to  God.  So  that,  in  whatevei 
measure  these  men  may  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  Christ,  they  clearly  acted 
on  the  principle  of  their  being  stewards 
rather  than  proprietors,  holding  posses- 
sions at  the  will  of  the  Almighty,  and 
prepared  to  give  them  up  so  soon  as  ho 
should  ask  them.  It  was  enough  for 
them  to  receive  an  intimation  that  God 
had  employment  for  that  which  he  had 
deposited  with  them,  and  instantly  they 
surrendered  it,  as  though  no  longer  their 
own. 

Were  they  not  herein  a  great  exam- 
ple to  ourselves  1  Every  one  of  us  is 
ready  to  acknowledge  in  God  the  uni- 
versal proprietor,  to  confess,  at  least 
with  the  mouth,  that  every  good,  which 
is  delivered  into  our  keeping,  "  cometh 
down  from  the  Father  of  lights."  The 
infidelity  on  such  points  is  almost  exclu- 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


113 


sively  a  practical  infidelity  ;  there  may 
be  some,  but  they  are  few,  so  blinded 
by  sensuality,  or  besotted  with  pride, 
that  they  will  boldly  ascribe  to  their 
own  skill  what  they  acquire,  and  speak 
and  think  as  though  there  were  no  ruler 
above  who  both  has  bestowed  and  may 
reclaim  every  tittle  of  their  possessions. 
It  is  virtually  little  more  than  acknow- 
ledging the  existence  of  God,  to  acknow- 
ledge that  the  universe,  in  its  every  de- 
partment, is  subject  to  the  control  and 
disposal  of  its  Maker;  that  he  orders, 
with  absolute  authority,  the  portion  of 
every  creature,  diminishing  or  augment- 
ing it,  making  it  permanent  or  variable, 
at  his  own  good  pleasure.  And  if  the 
acknowledgment  were  any  thing  more 
than  in  theory,  it  would  follow  that  men, 
conscious  of  holding  their  property  in 
trust,  would  strive  to  employ  it  in  the 
service  of  the  actual  owner,  and  be  ready 
to  part  with  it,  on  his  indicating  the  least 
wish  for  its  removal.  But  here,  alas,  it 
is  that  the  infidelity  comes  into  action  ; 
and  men,  who  are  most  frank  with  the 
confession  of  not  being  their  own,  and  of 
holding  nothing  which  belongs  not  to 
another,  will  be  as  tenacious  of  posses- 
sions as  though  there  were  no  superior 
title;  as  reluctant  to  give  up  any  por- 
tion, even  when  God  himself  asks,  as 
though  stewardship  implied  no  account- 
ableness. 

The  owners  of  the  ass  and  the  colt 
proceeded  on  the  right  principle,  and 
should  therefore  be  taken  as  examples 
by  ourselves.  They  used  the  animals 
for  their  own  pleasure  or  profit,  so  long 
as  they  were  not  required  by  God,  but 
surrendered  them  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  so  soon  as  they  heard  "  The 
Lord  hath  need  of  them."  And  this 
should  be  the  case  with  every  one  on 
whom  God  has  bestowed  earthly  wealth. 
There  is  nothing  to  forbid  the  temperate 
enjoyment  of  that  wealth — but  it  is  held 
only  in  trust;  and  a  due  portion  should 
be  cheerfully  given  up,  whensoever  there 
is  a  clear  intimation  of  its  being  needed 
by  the  Lord.  Ancient  prophecy  was  to 
be  accomplished.  The  Redeemer  had 
to  make  his  way  into  Jerusalem,  as  the 
King  of  Zion,  "meek  and  sitting  upon 
an  ass,  and  a  colt  the  foal  of  an  ass." 
Here  was  the  need  :  and  he,  whose  are 
"the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills,"  and 
who  could  have  commanded  the  attend- 
ance of  swarming  troops  of  the  beasts  of 
Vol.  II. 


the  field,  chose  to  send  to  men  who  had 
but  scanty  possessions;  and  these  men, 
admitting  at  once  his  rights,  gladly  sur- 
rendered what  they  owned  at  his  bidding. 
Ancient  prophecy  has  yet  to  be  accom- 
plished :  the  Redeemer  has  to  make  his 
way  into  districts  of  the  earth  which 
have  not  bowed  at  his  sceptre,  into  house- 
holds and  hearts  which  have  closed  them- 
selves against  him.  And  though  he 
might  command  the  legions  of  angels, 
and  cause  a  miraculous  proclamation  of 
j  his  Gospel,  it  pleases  him  to  work 
through  human  instrumentality — not  in- 
deed that  the  instrumentality  can  be 
effectual,  except  through  his  blessing, 
but  that  it  is  not  his  course  to  produce 
results,  save  through  the  use  of  instituted 
means.  Here  then  is  the  need  ;  and  it 
may  justly  be  said,  that  through  every 
statement  of  spiritual  destitution,  every 
account  how  souls  are  perishing  through 
"  lack  of  knowledge,"  and  how  the  king- 
dom of  darkness  is  opposing  itself  to 
the  kingdom  of  light,  there  comes  a 
message  to  the  owners  of  riches,  "  The 
Lord  hath  need  of  them." 

But  who  will  say  that  the  message 
ordinarily  finds  that  ready  compliance 
which  followed  it  when  delivered  by  the 
first  disciples  of  Christ  1  Indeed,  it  will 
be  the  commencement  of  a  new  era  in 
the  church,  when  to  show  that  "the  Lord 
hath  need  "  of  this  or  that  thing,  shall 
suffice  to  procure  its  cheerful  bestow- 
ment.  Yet  assuredly  this  is  the  just 
ground  on  which  to  rest  every  charitable 
appeal :  let  it  be  an  appeal  in  the  cause 
of  God  and  of  Christ,  and  it  is  not  so 
much  a  request  for  liberality  as  a  demand 
for  justice.  The  Almighty  does  but  ask 
his  own:  you  may  sin  in  withholding, 
but  can  claim  no  merit  for  surrendering. 
Neither  is  it  exclusively  as  pointing  out 
the  tenure  by  which  we  hold  our  posses- 
sions, that  there  is  a  lesson  in  Christ's 
message  to  the  owners  of  the  ass  and 
the  colt.  It  is  a  message  which  should 
be  heard  through  every  afflictive  dispen- 
sation ;  for  in  one  way  or  another,  it  may 
be  said  that  the  Lord  has  need  of  what- 
soever he  withdraws  from  our  keeping. 
j  If  he  strip  us  of  property,  it  may  be 
that  we  had  not  made  a  right  use  of  that 
property  ;  and  having  need  of  it,  he  has 
transferred  it  to  another  who  will  be  more 
faithful  in  his  stewai-dship.  Or,  if  we 
be  not  chargeable  with  the  abuse  of  our 
trust,  we  may  be  sure  that  God  has 
15 


lit 


THE  LOWLY  ERRAND. 


takpn  the  earthly  riches,  in  order  to  at- 
tach us  more  closely  to  heavenly;  ami 
he  may  be  said  to  have  needed  what  he 
took,  it"  H'  took  it  that  lit-  might  carry  on 
his  great  work  of  moral  discipline. 

It  is  thus  also  with  the  removal  of  what 
we  love  and  miss  more  than  riches — kins- 
men, and  children,  and  friends  :  "  The 
Lord  hath  need  of  them."  Perhaps 
they  may  have  been  fully  prepared  for  the 
glories  of  heaven  :  there  were  places  in 
the  celestial  temple  which  awaited  them 
as  occupants;  and  God,  with  reverence 
be  it  spoken,  could  no  longer  spare  them 
from  his  presence.  Oh,  there  is  many 
a  death-bed,  over  which  angels  might 
be  thought  to  whisper  the  words  now 
before  lis  :  and  if  they  who  stand  round 
the  bed  should  be  tempted  to  ask,  "  Why 
is  one  so  excellent  to  be  taken  1  why 
are  we  to  be  parted  from  so  rare  an 
example  of  all  that  is  most  precious  and 
beautiful  in  religion?"  the  best  answer 
might  be,  "The  Lord  hath  need  of 
him  :"  the  light  which  has  shone  so  bril- 
liantly below,  is  now  wanted  to  add  to 
the  radiance  above.  And  even  if  we 
may  not  venture  on  such  a  statement  as 
this,  we  may  still  say  that  the  dead  are 
taken,  that  the  living  may  be  warned  : 
God  breaks  our  earthly  ties,  to  lead  us 
to  the  commencing  or  strengthening 
friendship  with  himself;  and  there  can 
be  nothing  strained  or  exaggerated  in 
the  saying  that  "the  Lord  hath  need  " 
of  that  which  he  removes,  that  he  may 
correct  and  benefit  his  creatures. 

In  how  many  ways  then,  and  through 
how  many  voices,  is  the  message  syl- 
labled, which  Christ  sent  to  them  whose 
property  he  required.  Hearken  for  it, 
and  it  will  come  to  you  through  all  the 
wants  of  your  fellow-men,  through  the 
prevalence  of  ignorance,  through  the 
pressure  of  indigence,  through  the  ac- 
cidents, .soi-rows,  and  bereavements  of 
hl«'-  In  a  thousand  ways  is  God  saying 
to  us  that  he  has  need  of  our  property, 
need  of  our  talents,  need  of  our  time, 
need  of  those  whom  we  love,  and  of  that 
which  we  cherish.  Shall  we  refuse 
him  ?  or,  where  we  have  no  option, 
shall  we  yield  up  grudgingly,  in  place  of 
cheerfully,  what  he  requires  %  Nay,  let 
us  take  pattern  from  men  to  whom  pro- 
bably but  little  had  been  intrusted,  but 
who  readily  gave  up  that  little  so  soon 
as  it  was  needed  for  the  service  of  God. 
It  may  be,  that  we  are  often  inclined  to 


excuse  ourselves  from  imitating  scrip- 
tural examples,  by  pleading  that  the 
saints  of  old  were  of  extraordinary  cha- 
racter, and  in  extraordinary  circum- 
stances, and  cannot  therefore  with  justice 
be  set  before  us  as  models.  If  I  hold 
up  the  patriarch  Job  to  those  on  whom 
sorrow  presses  hard,  and  bid  them  ob- 
serve how,  when  children  were  dead, 
and  possessions  destroyed,  this  man  of 
God  meekly  said,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away  :  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord  " — Yes,  is  the 
feeling,  if  not  the  answer ;  but  Job  was 
no  common  man  :  his  name  has  passed 
into  a  proverb :  and  it  is  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  such  as  we  should  emulate 
his  marvellous  patience.  If  again,  when 
I  would  urge  men  to  sacrifices  and  en- 
durances in  the  cause  of  Christ  and  his 
Gospel,  I  dwell  on  the  example  of  St. 
Paul,  who  counted  "  all  things  but  loss," 
that  he  might  know  and  serve  the  Re- 
deemer, "  in  journeyings  often,  in  weari- 
ness and  painfulness,  in  watchings  often, 
in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  cold  and  naked- 
ness " — Yes,  is  the  sentiment,  if  not  the 
expression  ;  but  St.  Paul  has  never  had 
his  equal  :  the  wonder  of  his  own  and 
every  succeeding  generation,  we  may 
not  think  to  reach  so  lofty  a  standard. 

Thus  there  is  a  way  of  evading  the 
force  of  scriptural  examples  :  men  ima- 
gine circumstances  of  distinction  between 
themselves  and  eminent  saints,  and  give 
those  circumstances  in  apology  for  com- 
ing far  behind  them  in  piety.  Let  us 
then  learn  from  the  mean  and  unknown, 
of  whom  we  may  not  plead  that  they 
were  separated  from  us  by  any  thing 
rare  in  endowment  or  position.  Men 
who  are  reluctant  to  part  with  property, 
that  it  may  be  employed  in  the  cause  of 
God  ;  parents  who  would  withhold  their 
children  from  missionary  work,  or  mur- 
mur at  their  being  transplanted  from  earth 
to  heaven  ;  sufferers,  to  whom  is  allotted 
one  kind  or  another  of  afflictive  dispen- 
sation, and  who  rebel  under  the  chastise- 
ment, as  though  it  were  not  for  good — 
come  ye  all,  and  learn,  if  not  from  exalted 
persons  such  as  Job  and  St.  Paul,  yet 
from  the  owners  of  the  ass  and  the  colt 
which  Christ  sent  for,  when  designing 
his  last  entry  to  Jerusalem.  There  is 
virtually  the  same  message  to  every  one 
of  you  as  was  brought  to  these  poor  and 
unknown  individuals.  The  motive  to 
your   surrendering    what    is    asked,    or 


THE  LOWLY    ERRAND. 


115 


tearing  what  is  imposed,  is  precisely 
the  same  as  was  urged  upon  them.  And 
they  will  rise  up  in  the  judgment  and 
condemn  yon,  if  with  all  your  superior 
advantages — the  advantages  of  Chris- 
tianity above  Judaism,  of  an  imperfect 
over  an  introductory  dispensation — you 
show  yourselves  less  compliant  than  they 
were  with  a  summons  from  the  universal 
Proprietor.  Christ,  who  knoweth  the 
heart,  could  reckon  on  readiness,  so  soon 
as  the  owners  should  be  told  of  his  re- 
quiring the  ass  and  the  colt.  May  he 
reckon  on  the  same  with  us  1  Ah,  let 
us,  when  we  go  hence,  consider  what 
we  have  which  God  may  speedily  require 
at  our  hands ;  let  us  search,  and  see 
whether  we  are  prepared  to  resign  it, 
when  asked  for  by  God — be  it  wealth, 
or  child,  or  honor,  or  friend — and  let  us 
observe  how  reluctance  is  rebuked  now, 
and  will  be  witnessed  against  hereafter, 
by  the  willingness  of  the  owners  of  the  ass 
and  the  colt,  of  whom  Christ  could  affirm, 
"  Say  ye,  the  Lord  hath  need  of  them, 
and  straightway  they  will  send  them." 

We  have  thus  considered  the  incidents 
to  which  our  text  has  respect  with  re- 
ference to  Christ  himself,  to  his  disciples, 
and  to  the  owners  of  the  ass  and  the 
colt.  We  have  endeavored  to  show  you 
that  our  Lord  added  to  the  witness  for 
his  being  the  Messiah,  by  the  prescience 
and  power  displayed  ;  and  t-hat  the  man- 
ner of  the  display  was  admirably  appro- 
priate to  the  wants  and  circumstances 
of  his  followers.  We  have  set  before 
you  the  disciples  as  worthy  of  your  close 
imitation,  in  that  they  unhesitatingly 
obeyed  where  they  might  have  plausibly 
objected,  and  were  as  ready  for  a  menial 
service  as  for  the  most  honored  and 
illustrious.  And  then  the  owners  have 
been  considered,  as  exemplifying  a  great 
principle  of  which  we  are  apt  to  lose  sight 
— the  principle,  that,  in  the  matter  of  our 
possessions,  we  are  not  proprietors,  but 
stewards,  and  should  therefore  hold  our- 
selves ready  to  part  with  what  we  have, 
so  soon  as  we  know  that  it  is  needed  by 
the  Lord. 

They  are  great  lessons,  and  striking 
truths,  which  have  thus  been  derived 
and  illustrated  from  our  text  and  the 
context.  But,  before  we  conclude,  let 
us  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  vast  honor 
given  to  humble  individuals,  in  that  they 
were  allowed  to  contribute  to  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Savior,  when,  accomplishing 


ancient  prediction,  he  advanced  towards 
the  city  where  he  was  to  sacrifice  him- 
self. I  think,  that,  if  the  men  saw  the 
triumphal  procession,  the  multitude 
spreading  their  garments,  strewing  the 
way  with  branches,  and  burdening  the 
air  with  hosannahs,  they  must  have  felt 
an  elation  of  heart,  that  their  beasts 
should  have  been  chosen  for  a  personage 
whom  thousands  thus  combined  to  rev- 
erence and  honor.  The  noblest  and 
wealthiest  might  justly  have  exulted, 
had  they  been  allowed  to  aid  the  glorious 
advance  :  but,  as  though  to  show  how 
the  mean  may  serve  him,  and  how  their 
service  shall  be  owned,  Christ  openly 
used  the  property  of  the  poor,  on  the 
single  occasion  when  there  was  any 
thing  like  pomp  in  his  earthly  career. 

And  why  should  we  not  gather  from 
this,  that,  when  he  shall  come  in  power 
and  great  majesty — not  the  lowly  man, 
entering  Jerusalem  in  a  triumph  which 
was  itself  almost  humiliation,  but  the 
"  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords  " — 
he  will  acknowledge  and  exhibit  the 
services  rendered  him  by  the  poor  and 
despised,  as  well  as  those  wrought  by 
the  great  ones  of  the  earth  1  It  ought 
to  encourage  them  who  have  but  little 
in  their  power,  that  it  was  "  the  foal  of 
an  ass"  on  which  Christ  rode,  and  that 
this  foal,  in  all  probability,  belonged  to 
the  poor.  We  may  all  do  something 
towards  that  sublime  consummation  for 
which  the  church  watches  and  prays, 
when,  not  from  a  solitary  city,  and  not 
from  a  single  and  inconsistent  people, 
but  from  ten  thousand  times  ten  thou- 
sand voices,  from  every  clime,  and  land, 
and  tongue,  shall  be  heard  the  shout, 
"  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David  :  blessed 
is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  ;  hosannah  in  the  highest."  "  The 
Lord  hath  need  "  of  the  strength  of  the 
mighty  and  of  the  feebleness  of  the 
weak;  of  the  abundance  of  the  rich  and 
of  the  mites  of  the  impoverished;  and  if 
we  will  go  forth  to  his  help,  if  each,  ac- 
cording to  his  means  and  ability,  will 
strive  to  accelerate  the  day  when  "  all 
shall  know  the  Lord,  from  the  least  to 
the  greatest,"  we  may  be  sure  that  our 
labor  shall  not  be  forgotten,  when  "  the 
Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and 
all  the  holy  angels  with  him."  Oh,  if 
there  be  some  of  whom  it  shall  then  be 
told  that  they  contributed  the  rich  and 
the   costly  towards    preparing   the  way 


116 


NEIIEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


for  the  advancing  Redeemer,  of  others  it 
may  be  said  that  they  had  not  the  rich 
and  the  costly  to  give,  but  that,  with  a 
willing  heart,  they  offered  their  best, 
though  thai  besl  was  only  the  refuse  and 
mean.  And  we  do  not  merely  say  that 
the  poorness  of  the  gift  shall  not  cause 
ii  to  be  overlooked  :  the  inconsiderable 
offering  may  be  shown  to  have  been  as 
instrumental  as  the  magnificent  in  fur- 
thering the  progress  of  the  Gospel  :  he 
who,  when  he  would  accomplish  pro- 
phecy, entered  Jerusalem,  not  in  the 
rich  man's  chariot,  but  on  the  poor  man's 
ass,  may  prove  tha{  he  went  forwards 
to  his  kingdom,  as  much  through  what 
the  feeble  wrought  in  their  weakness, 
as  what  the  mighty  effected  in  their 
strength. 

Let  this  encourage  all,  that  they  be 
not  weary  in  well-doing.  May  all  make 
a  practical  use  of  the  great  doctrine  of 
Christ's  second  coming.  Anticipate  that 
coming :     realize    your    own    personal 


share  in  that  coming.  He  will  come 
"  to  take  account  of  his  servants  " — are 
you  ready  with  your  account]  have  you 
improved  your  talents  1  have  you  acted 
up  to  your  ability  in  furthering  the  great 
cause  of  truth  upon  earth  ]  Let  none 
think  himself  either  excused  or  injured 
by  insignificance.  There  was,  you  re- 
member, a  servant  to  whom  but  one 
talent  had  been  given;  and  he  was 
bound  hand  and  foot  and  cast  to  "outer 
darkness,"  because  that  one  had  been 
hidden,  when  it  might  have  been  put 
"  to  the  exchangers."  There  were  men 
who  perhaps  owned  little  more  than  an 
ass  and  a  colt,  but  they  were  ready  to 
surrender  what  they  had,  when  needed 
by  Christ;  and  lo,  they  were  honored 
to  the  effecting  what  prophecy  had  an- 
nounced in  one  of  its  loftiest  strains, 
they  were  instrumental  to  the  bringing 
and  displaying  her  King  to  "  the  daugh- 
ter of  Zion." 


SERMON    XIII. 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


"  I  said  unto  the  kin?,  Lot  the  kin?  live  for  rver .  why  should  not  my  countenance  be  sad,  when  the  city,  the  placa 
of  my  fathers'  sepulchres,  lieth  watte,  and  the  gates' thereof  are  consumed  with  fire?  Then  the  kin?  said  unto  me, 
For  what  dost  thou  make  request  ?  So  I  prayed  to  the  God  of  heaven.  And  I  said  unto  the  king-,  If  it  please 
the  kin?,  and  if  thy  servant  have  found  favor  in  thy  sight,  that  thou  wouldest  send  me  unto  Judah  unto  the  city 
of  my  fathers'  sepulchres,  that  I  may  build  it."— Nehemiah  ii.  3,  4,  5. 


When  the  seventy  years  had  expired, 
during  which  God,  in  just  judgment 
for  their  many  offences,  had  sentenced 
the  Jews  to  captivity  in  Babylon,  he 
graciously  remembered  his  promise,  and 
raised  them  up  a  deliverer  in  the  person 
of  Cyrus.  In  the  first  year  of  that  mon- 
arch's reign,  "  that  the  word  of  the 
Lord,  spoken  by  the  mouth  of  Jeremiah, 
might  be  accomplished,"  a  royal  edict 
was  issued,  which  not   only   permitted 


the  captives  to  return  to  their  own  land, 
but  enjoined  that  every  facility  should 
be  afforded  to  their  march,  and  every 
assistance  rendered  them  in  the  rebuild- 
ing their  city  and  temple. 

It  does  not  appear  that  immediate 
and  general  advantage  was  taken  of 
this  edict;  the  Jews  did  not  raise  as 
one  man,  under  the  influence  of  a  desire 
to  resettle  themselves  in  Palestine.  And 
this  is  little  to  be  wondered  at,  if  you  re- 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


117 


member  the  utter  desolation  in  which 
Jerusalem  and  Judea  then  lay,  the 
arduousness  and  perils  of  the  journey, 
and  the  fact  that  the  captivity  had  con- 
tinued so  long  that  few,  and  those  only 
men  fast  advancing  in  years,  had  ever 
Been  the  land  of  their  fathers,  or  were 
bound  to  it  by  the  ties  of  remembrance 
or  acquaintance.  No  marvel  if  there 
was  something  of  pause  and  hesitation, 
if  piety  and  patriotism  did  not  instantly 
nerve  all  the  exiles  to  abandon  the 
country  which  had  almost  become  theirs 
by  adoption,  and  to  seek  a  home  where, 
though  they  had  once  been  possessors, 
they  would  only  find  themselves  strang- 
ers. But  God  purposed  the  restora- 
tion of  the  people,  and  therefore,  as  we 
read,  he  raised  the  spirit  of  "  the  chief 
of  the  fathers  of  Judah  and  Benjamin, 
and  the  priests  and  the  Levites,  to  go 
up  to  build  the  house  of  the  Lord  which 
is  at  Jerusalem."  And  soon,  under  the 
guidance  of  Zerubbabel,  there  went 
forth  a  mixed  company  of  the  old  and 
the  young,  bearing  with  them  not  only 
their  own  riches,  but  "  the  vessels  of  the 
house  of  the  Lord:"  obstacles  were  sur- 
mounted, dangers  escaped,  through  the 
assistance  and  protection  of  God  ;  and 
in  due  time  the  wanderers  reached  the 
spot,  hallowed  by  so  many  magnificent 
recollections,  and  which  was  yet  to  be 
the  scene  of  mightier  things  than  past 
days  had  witnessed. 

But  the  difficulties,  as  you  well  re- 
member, of  the  Jews  did  not  terminate 
with  their  arrival  in  Judea;  their  city 
and  temple  were  to  be  rebuilded  ;  and 
in  this  great  work,  they  found  inveterate 
adversaries  in  the  Samaritans,  who  had 
been  settled  in  the  land  by  Esarhaddon, 
and  who,  professing  a  mixed  and  spuri- 
ous religion,  wished  not  the  revival  of 
the  pure  worship  of  Jehovah.  The  op- 
position of  these  adversaries  was  so  far 
successful,  that  Cyrus,  the  patron  of  the 
Jews,  being  dead,  "  the  work  of  the 
house  of  God"  was  made  to  cease  "  un- 
til the  second  year  of  the  reign  of 
Dai-ius."  Then,  however,  it  recommen- 
ced, the  prophets  Haggai  and  Zechariah 
6tirred  up  the  people,  and  God  inclined 
the  new  monarch  to  re-enact  the  decree 
which  had  been  issued  by  Cyrus.  Un- 
der these  altered  circumstances,  Jerusa- 
lem had  soon  again  a  temple,  which, 
if  inferior  to  that  of  Solomon  in  stateli- 
ness  of  structure,  and  richness  of  adorn- 


ment, was  yet  prophetically  declared 
destined  to  far  higher  dignity,  inasmuch 
as  it  should  receive  the  promised  Mes- 
siah :  "The  glory  of  this  latter  house 
shall  be  greater  than  of  the  former,  saith 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  ;  and  in  this  place 
will  I  give  peace,  saith  the  Lord  of 
Hosts." 

But  when  the  temple  had  thus  risen, 
and  the  inspired  men  were  dead  whom 
God  had  raised  up  for  the  instruction 
and  encouragement  of  the  people,  there 
appears  to  have  been  great  unsettle- 
ment  in  both  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
policy  of  the  Jews;  as  a  nation,  then- 
position  was  made  precarious  by  sur- 
rounding enemies  and  internal  confu- 
sion ;  whilst,  as  the  people  of  God,  they 
had  mingled  themselves  with  the  people 
of  the  lands,  and  thereby  exposed  them- 
selves to  his  wrath.  In  this  crisis,  Ezra 
was  raised  up,  "A  ready  scribe  in  the 
law  of  Moses  :"  having  obtained  sanction 
and  assistance  from  king  Artaxerxes,  he 
visited  Jerusalem  that  he  might  "  teach 
in  Israel  statutes  and  judgments."  It 
would  seem  to  have  been  almost  ex- 
clusively to  religious  matters  that  Ez- 
ra directed  his  attention  ;  he  accom- 
plished a  great  work  in  dissolving  the 
unlawful  connexions  which  the  Jews 
had  formed  with  the  people  of  the  land; 
but  he  did  little  or  nothing  towards  re- 
instating his  country  in  the  position 
which  it  had  once  held  amongst  nations. 
Jerusalem  appears  to  have  remained 
Without  defences,  exposed  to  the  assault 
of  every  enemy,  and  liable  at  any  mo- 
ment— so  ill  was  it  provided  with  the 
munitions  of  war — to  be  reduced  to  the 
ruins  from  which  it  had  so  lately,  and  as 
yet  so  imperfectly,  sprung. 

Here  we  come  to  the  actions  of  an- 
other worthy,  whose  history  furnishes 
the  latest  canonical  records  of  the  Jews 
till  the  days  of  our  Lord.  When  about 
twelve  years  had  elapsed  from  the  events 
commemorated  in  the  close  of  the  book 
of  Ezra,  we  find  a  Jew,  named  Nehe- 
miah,  residing  in  Shushan,  the  capital 
of  Persia,  and  filling  the  office  of  cup- 
bearer to  Artaxerxes  the  king.  His 
father,  Hachaliah  was  probably  one  of 
them  who  had  declined  to  take  advant- 
age of  the  decree  of  Cyrus,  preferring 
to  remain  where  he  had  made  himself 
a  home,  to  returning  to  a  country  where 
he  must  feel  himself  an  alien.  The  son, 
Nehemiah,  occupying  a  post    of  great 


115 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


honor  in  the  Persian  court,  may  never 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  visiting 
Jerusalem,  hut  his  heat  yearned  towards 
the  land  and  city  of  his  fathers  ;  with  the 
spirit  of  a  true  patriot,  he  sought  eager- 
ly for  information  as  to  the  condition  of 
his  countrymen,  and  longed  to  be  instru- 
mental in  advancing  their  prosperity. 
The  information  came  :  Hauani,  one  of 
his  brethren,  and  certain  men  of  Judah, 
reached  Shushan  from  Jerusalem,  per- 
haps disheartened  by  the  difficulties 
which  they  had  experienced,  and  account- 
ing' it  better  to  resettle  in  the  land  in 
which  they  had  been  captives.  They 
gave  Nehemiah  a  melancholy,  though 
not,  as  it  would  seem,  an  exaggerated 
account.  "  The  remnant  that  are  left 
of  the  captivity  there  in  the  province 
are  in  great  affliction  and  reproach  ;  the 
wall  of  Jerusalem  also  is  broken  down, 
and  the  gates  thereof  are  burned  with 
Are." 

And  now  it  was  that  the  man  of  piety 
appeared  in  the  man  of  patriotism  ;  and 
admirably  does  Nehemiah  stand  forth 
as  an  example  to  them  who  profess  to 
have  at  heart  their  country's  good,  and 
to  be  stricken  by  its  calamities.  He 
did  not  immediately  call  a  meeting  of 
the  Jews,  to  consult  what  might  be  done 
for  their  afflicted  countrymen.  He  did 
not  gather  round  him  a  knot  of  politi- 
cians, that  plans  might  be  discussed,  and 
assistance  levied.  But,  as  one  who  knew 
in  calamity  the  offspring  of  sin,  and  in 
the  Almighty  the  single  patron  of  the 
distressed,  Nehemiah  "  sat  down,  and 
wept,  and  mourned  certain  days,  and 
fasted,  and  prayed  before  the  God  of 
heaven." 

But  Nehemiah  did  not  count  his  part 
done  when  he  had  thus,  in  all  humility, 
confessed  the  sins  of  his  nation,  and  enT 
treated  the  interference  of  God.  He 
was  not  one  of  them  who  substitute 
prayer  for  endeavor,  though  he  would 
not  make  an  endeavor  until  he  had 
prepared  himself  by  prayer.  Fortified 
through  humiliation  and  supplication, 
he  now  sought  to  take  advantage  of  his 
position  with  the  king,  and,  true  patriot 
as  he  was,  to  render  that  position  useful 
to  his  countrymen.  Nearly  four  months 
elapsed  from  his  interview  with  Hanani, 
before  an  opportunity  occurred  for  his 
addressing  Artaxerxes.  There  was  pro- 
bably a  rotation  in  the  office  of  cup- 
bearer, which  obliged  him  to  await  his 


turn  ;  and  it  was  at  the  hazard  of  life  to 
any  one  to  enter,  unbidden,  into  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Persian  monarch.  But  in 
the  month  of  Nisan  he  stood  before 
Artaxerxes,  and  he  "  took  up  the  wine, 
and  gave  it  unto  the  king."  He  was 
now,  however,  heavy  at  heart,  and  the 
handing  the  sparkling  draught  to  the 
monarch  at  his  banquet,  ill  assorted 
with  a  mind  distracted  and  sad.  He 
had  not  the  skill,  indeed  he  could  not 
have  had  the  wish,  to  disguise  his  feel- 
ings, and  affect  a  cheerfulness  which  he 
did  not  experience.  It  was  his  object 
to  attract  the  attention  of  the  king ;  to 
do  this  he  had  only  to  allow  his  coun- 
tenance to  betray  what,  perhaps,  he 
could  hardly  have  forced  it  to  conceal — 
for  we  are  expressly  told  that  he  had 
never  "  beforetime  been  sad  in  his  pre- 
sence " — so  that  the  altered  demeanor 
was  immediately  observed,  and  its  rea- 
son demanded  with  all  the  quickness  of 
eastern  suspicion. 

And  here  it  is  that  we  reach  the  very 
simple,  but  touching,  narration  of  our 
text.  Nehemiah  was  sore  afraid,  when 
Artaxerxes,  struck  with  the  sorrow  de- 
picted on  his  features,  imperiously  asked 
the  cause  of  the  too  evident  grief.  It 
was  the  moment  for  which  he  had  wish- 
ed, yea,  for  which  he  had  prayed,  yet, 
now  that  it  had  come,  he  felt  so  deeply 
what  consequences  hung  upon  a  word, 
that  he  was  almost  unmanned,  and 
could  scarce  venture  to  unburden  his 
heart.  He  spake,  however,  and  first 
offering  the  customary  wish  on  behalf 
of  the  king,  asked  how  he  could  be 
other  than  sad,  whilst  the  city,  and  the 
place  of  the  sepulchres  of  his  fathers, 
lay  desolate  and  waste,  and  the  gates 
thereof  were  consumed  with  fire  ?  Upon 
this,  Artaxerxes  demanded  what  request 
he  had  to  make  ;  and  Nehemiah,  though 
his  answer  had  of  course  to  be  imme- 
diately given,  gave  it  not  till  he  had 
strengthened  himself  by  silent  petition 
to  one  greater  than  the  king;  he  "pray- 
ed to  the  God  of  heaven,"  and  then  en- 
treated permission  to  go  unto  Judah, 
and  build  up  the  city  of  the  sepulchres 
of  his  fathers. 

The  request  was  successful,  though 
the  passage,  which  we  have  selected 
as  our  subject  of  discourse,  does  not 
require  us  to  refer  to  subsequent  events 
in  the  history  of  Nehemiah.  There  i8 
enojgh  in  this  passage  itself  to  require 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


119 


and  repay  the  most  serious  attention  ; 
snd  we  have  but  engaged  you  with  a 
somewhat  lengthened  review  of  forego- 
ing circumstances,  that  you  might  the 
better  appreciate  what  is  here  recorded 
of  the  conduct  of  Nehemiah.  The  two 
prominent  facts  on  which  we  wish  to 
seize,  do  indeed  widely  differ  the  one 
from  the  other,  so  that,  in  making  them 
the  subject  of  a  single  discourse,  we 
cannot  hope  to  preserve  that  continuous- 
ness  of  thought  which  is  generally  to  be 
desired  in  addresses  from  the  pulpit. 
But  forasmuch  as  the  facts  come  to- 
gether in  Scripture,  it  must  be  every 
way  right  that  they  be  gathered,  as  we 
now  propose,  into  one  and  the  same 
sermon.  The  facts  are  these ;  the  first, 
that  it  was  as  the  city  of  his  fathers' 
sepulchres  that  Jerusalem  excited  the 
solicitude  of  Nehemiah  ;  the  second, 
that  Nehemiah  found  a  moment  before 
answering  the  king,  to  offer  petition  to 
the  Almighty.  Let  us  have  your  close  at- 
tention to  these  very  interesting,  though 
unconnected  topics  ;  our  first  topic  is, 
the  peculiar  plea  which  Nehemiah  urges 
with  Artaxerxes  ;  our  second,  the  ejac- 
ulatory  prayer  which  went  up  from 
Nehemiah  to  God. 

Now  Jerusalem  had  not  yet  received 
its  most  illustrious  distinction,  forasmuch 
as  "  the  fulness  of  time  "  had  not  arrived, 
and,  therefore,  there  had  not  yet  been 
transacted  within  her  circuits  the  won- 
drous scenes  of  the  redemption  of  the 
world.  She  was  reserved  for  more  stu- 
pendous and  startling  things  than  past 
days  had  witnessed,  fraught  though  her 
history  had  been  with  miracles  and  pro- 
digy: her  streets  were  to  be  trodden  by 
the  incarnate  God,  and  on  the  summit 
of  Moriah  was  the  promised  seed  of  the 
woman,  bruised  himself  in  the  heel,  to 
accomplish  the  first  prophecy,  and 
bruise  the  serpent's  head.  Neverthe- 
less, to  every  man,  especially  to  a  de- 
vout Jew,  there  were  already  reasons 
in  abundance  why  thought  should  turn 
to  Jerusalem,  and  centre  there  as  on  a 
place  of  peculiar  sanctity  and  interest. 
There,  had  a  temple  been  reared, 
•"  magnirical "  beyond  what  earth  be- 
foretime  had  seen,  rich  with  the  marble 
and  the  gold,  but  richer  in  the  visible 
tokens  of  the  presence  of  the  universal 
Lord.  There  had  sacrifices  been  con- 
tinually offered,  whose  efficacy  was 
manifest  even  to   them   who  discerned 


not  their  typical  import,  forasmuch  as 
at  times  they  prevailed  to  the  arrest  of 
temporal  visitations,  and  pestilence  was 
dispersed  by  the  smoke  of  the  oblation. 
There,  had  monarchs  reigned  of  singular 
and  wide-spread  renown  ;  the  fame  of 
one,  at  least,  had  gone  out  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  and  nations  had  flocked  to 
hear  the  wisdom  which  fell  from  his 
lips.  There,  had  been  enacted  a  long 
series  of  judgments  and  deliverances; 
the  chastisements  of  heaven  following  so 
visibly  upon  wickedness,  and  its  protec- 
tion mi  repentance,  that  the  most  casual 
beholder  might  have  certified  himself 
that  the  Supreme  Being  held  the  reins 
of  government,  and  was  carrying  out 
the  laws  of  a  rigid  retribution. 

Hence,  it  might  easily  have  been  ac- 
counted for  why  Nehemiah  should  have 
looked  with  thrilling  interest  to  Jerusa- 
lem, even  if  you  had  kept  out  of  sight 
his  close  connexion  with  those  who 
were  striving  to  reinstate  it  in  strength, 
and  had  not  supposed  any  travelling  on- 
wards of  his  mind  to  the  wonders  with 
which  prophecy  yet  peopled  its  walls. 
But  the  observable  thing  is,  that  Nehe- 
miah fixes  not  on  any  of  these  obvious 
reasons,  when  he  would  explain,  or  ac- 
count for,  his  interest  in  Jerusalem.  He 
describes  the  city  ;  but  he  describes  it 
only  as  "  the  place  of  his  fathers'  sepul- 
chres :"  and  this  he  insists  upon,  as  of 
itself  sufficient  to  justify  his  urgency, 
pleading  it  alike  when  he  would  explain 
why  his  countenance  was  sad,  and  when 
he  stated  to  the  king  the  favor  which  he 
sought  at  his  hands.  Before  he  offered 
his  silent  prayer  to  God,  and  afterwards, 
when  he  might  be  supposed  to  have  re- 
ceived fresh  wisdom  from  above,  he 
spake,  you  observe,  of  the  city  merely 
as  of  the  place  of  the  sepulchres  of  his 
fathers,  as  though  no  stronger  reason 
could  be  given  why  he  should  wish  to 
rebuild  it;  none,  at  least,  whose  force 
was  more  felt  by  himself,  or  more  likely 
to  be  confessed  by  the  king.  The  lan- 
guage of  Nehemiah  is  too  express  and 
too  personal,  to  allow  of  our  supposing 
that  he  adopted  it  merely  from  thinking 
that  it  would  prevail  with  Artaxerxes: 
if  there  were  truthfulness  in  this  worthy, 
it  was  the  desecration  of  his  fathers' 
sepulchres  which  chiefly  disquieted  him  ; 
it  was  the  wish  of  restoring  these  sepul- 
chres which  mainly  urged  to  his  visiting 
Jerusalem.    Ponder  these  facts  for  a  few 


320 


NEUEJIIAH   BEFOUL    .UMAXERXES. 


moments ;    they   are  full,  we   tliink,  of 
beauty  ami  interest. 

If  we  may  argue  from  the  expressions 
of  Nehemiah,  then,  it  is  a  melancholy 
sight — that  of  a  ruined  town,  a  shattered 
navy,  or  a  country  laid  waste  by  famine 
and  war;  but  there  is  a  more  melancholy 
sight  still,  that  of  a  churchyard,  where 
Bleeps  the  dust  of  our  kindred,  desecrated 
and  destroyed,  whether  by  violence  or 
neglect.  5Tou  know,  that  if  poetry  or 
fiction  would  place  its  hero  in  a  position 
to  draw  upon  himself  the  pity  and  sym- 
pathy of  the  reader,  there  is  nothing  in 
which  it  more  delights  than  in  the  bring- 
ing him,  after  long  wanderings  as  an 
exile,  to  the  scenes  where  his  childhood 
was  passed,  and  making  him  theie  find 
the  home  of  his  ancestry  deserted  and 
ruined.  And  as  the  lonely  man  makes 
painfully  his  way  through  the  scene  of 
desolation,  the  wild  winds  syllabling,  as 
it  would  seem,  the  names  of  other  days, 
there  is  felt  to  be  a  depth  and  sacrednesa 
in  his  misfortunes,  which  must  insure 
his  being  the  object  of  a  more  than  com- 
mon compassion. 

But,  according  to  Nehemiah,  there  is 
another  position  which  is  yet  more  de- 
serving of  sympathy.  Let  us  suppose 
a  man  to  have  paid  the  last  sad  offices 
to  parents  whom  he  justly  revered;  he 
has  laid  them  in  a  decent  grave,  and, 
with  filial  piety,  erected  a  simple  monu- 
ment over  their  remains.  And  then  he 
has  gone  to  distant  lands,  and  worn  away 
many  years  in  separation  from  all  kins- 
men, though  not  without  frequent  turn- 
ings of  the  heart  to  the  home  of  young 
days.  At  length  he  revisits  his  native 
shore,  and  finds,  as  in  such  cases  is  com- 
monly found,  that  of  the  many  friends 
whom  he  had  left,  scarcely  one  remains 
to  welcome  him  back.  Disappointed  at 
not  being  known  by  the  living,  he  seeks 
the  companionship  of  the  dead;  he  hast- 
ens to  the  village  churchyard  where  his 
parents  sleep;  they  will  speak  to  him 
from  the  grave,  and  he  shall  no  longer 
seem  lonely.  But  he  can  hardly  rind 
the  grave ;  the  monuments  are  levelled  ; 
with  difficulty  can  he  assure  himself 
that  the  tombs  themselves  have  not  been 
profaned,  and  the  bones  of  the  dead 
sacrilegiously  disturbed.  Oh,  will  not 
this  be  the  most  heartbreaking  thing 
of  all '?  There  is  something  so  ungener- 
ous in  forgetfulness  or  contempt  of  the 
dead — they  cannot  speak  for  themselves; 


they  so  seem,  in  dying,  to  bequeath  their 
dust  to  survivors,  as  though  they  would 
give  affection  something  to  cherish,  and 
some  kind  office  still  to  perform;  that, 
from  graves  wantonly  neglected  or  in- 
vaded, there  might  always  appear  to 
issue  the  pathetic  complaint,  "  We  have 
nourished  and  brought  up  children,  and 
they  have  rebelled  against  us." 

And  we  cannot  but  think  that  the 
feelings  of  the  man  whom  we  have  thus 
carried,  not  to  the  ruined  mansion,  but  to 
the  ruined  mausoleum  of  his  ancestry, 
would  be  a  full  explanation  why  Nehe- 
miah laid  such  emphasis  on  the  fact 
which  he  selected,  when  he  sought  to 
move  Artaxerxes;  why  he  omitted  all 
reference  to  Jerusalem  in  its  magnifi- 
cence, to  the  thrones  of  monarchs,  the 
schools  of  prophets,  the  altars  of  sacri- 
fice; and  simply  said,  "  Why  should  not 
my  countenance  be  sad,  when  the  city 
the  place  of  my  fathers'  sepulchres, 
lieth  waste,  and  the  gates  thereof  are 
consumed  with  fire  1  " 

We  do  not,  however,  suppose  that  the 
strong  marks  of  respect  for  the  dead, 
which  occur  so  frequently  in  the  Bible, 
are  to  be  thoroughly  accounted  for  by  the 
workings  of  human  feelings  and  affec- 
tions. We  must  have  recourse  to  the 
great  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
body,  if  we  would  fully  understand  why 
the  dying  Joseph  "  gave  commandment 
concerning  his  bones,"  and  Nehemiah 
offered  no  description  of  Jerusalem,  but 
that  it  was  the  place  of  the  sepulchres  of 
his  fathers.  And  there  is  no  need  here 
for  entering  into  any  inquiry  as  to  the  de- 
gree of  acquaintance  with  the  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection  which  was  possessed 
under  the  old  dispensation.  If  you  find 
language  used  which  cannot  be  ade- 
quately interpreted  but  by  supposing  a 
knowledge  of  the  body's  resurrection,  it 
must  rather  Income  us  to  infer  that  men 
were  then  informed  of  his  truth,  than  to 
conclude,  on  any  other  grounds,  that  it 
was  altogether  hidden. 

But  when  you  bring  into  the  account 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  it  is  no 
longer  merely  as  a  man  of  strong  natural 
feelings,  but  as  an  ardent  believer  in  the 
loftiest  truths,  that  the  supposed  visiter 
to  the  desecrated  churchyard  might  be 
confounded  and  overcome.  The  doctrine 
of  the  resurrection  throws,  as  you  must 
all  admit,  a  sacredness  round  the  re- 
mains  of  the  dead,   because  it  oroves, 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


121 


that,  though  we  have  committed  the 
body  to  the  ground,  "ashes  to  ashes, 
dust  to  dust,"  that  body  is  reserved  for 
noble  allotments,  destined  to  reappear  in 
a  loftier  scene,  and  discharge  more 
glorious  functions.  It  were  a  light 
spirit  which  should  not  be  overawed 
amid  the  ruins  of  a  temple,  who  should 
recognize  nothing  solemn  in  the  mould- 
ering piles  which  it  knew  to  have  once 
canopied  the  more  immediate  presence 
of  God;  especially  if  it  further  knew, 
that,  on  some  approoaching  day,  the 
ruins  would  be  reinstated  in  symmetry 
and  strength,  forming  again  a  structure 
whose  walls  should  be  instinct  with 
Deity,  and  from  whose  recesses,  as  from 
awful  shrines,  should  issue  the  voice  of 
the  Eternal.  The  dead  body  is  that 
fallen  temple  :  consecrated  upon  earth 
as  the  habitation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  it 
decays  only  that  it  may  be  more  glori- 
ously rebuilt,  and  that  God  may  dwell 
in  it  for  ever  above.  Therefore  is  it  no 
slight  impiety  to  show  contempt  or  neg- 
lect of  the  dead.  It  is  contempt  or  neg- 
lect of  a  sanctuary  ;  and  how  can  this  be 
shown  but  with  contempt  or  neglect  of 
the  Being  to  whom  it  is  devoted  '? 

And  there  is  yet  more  to  be  said  ;  the 
doctrine  of  the  resurrection  is  the  crown- 
ing doctrine  of  revelation  ;  Christ  was 
"  raised  again  for  our  justification  :" 
"  if  the  dead  rise  not,  then  is  not  Christ 
raised  ;  and  if  Christ  be  not  raised,  your 
faith  is  vain,  ye  are  yet  in  your  sins. 
Then  they  also  which  are  fallen  asleep 
in  Christ  are  perished."  He,  therefore, 
who  would  forget,  make  light  of,  or  deny 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  sets 
himself  against  no  solitary  article  of  the 
faith  ;  it  is  Christianity  in  its  integrity 
which  is  at  stake  ;  it  is  all  that  is  com- 
forting, all  that  is  saving  in  its  tenets, 
which  is  displaced  or  disputed.  He,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  is  earnest  in  defence 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  and 
eager  to  show  that  he  values  it  as  well 
as  believes,  does  not,  therefore,  confine 
himself  to  a  single  truth  of  our  holy 
religion  :  the  sufficiency  of  the  atone- 
ment, the  completeness  of  redemption, 
the  pardon  of  every  sin,  the  opening  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers, 
these  he  sees  written,  as  they  nowhere 
else  are,  in  that  general  emptying  of  the 
sepulchres  which  he  is  taught  to  antici- 
pate— these  are  preached  to  him  most 
convincingly  by  the  trumpet  of  the  arch- 

VOL.  II. 


angel,  whose  peal  already  falls  on  the 
watchful  ear  of  faith.  Then  the  well- 
kept  churchyard,  with  its  various  monu- 
ments, each  inscribed  with  lines  not 
more  laudatory  of  the  past  than  hopeful 
of  the  future,  what  is  it  but  the  public 
testimony  to  all  that  is  precious  in  Chris- 
tianity, forasmuch  as  it  is  the  public  tes- 
timony that  the  dead  shall  live  again  ] 
Whereas,  if  tablets  be  defaced,  graves 
desecrated,  and  the  solemn  enclosure 
surrendered  to  insult  and  neglect,  it  is 
not  merely  that  the  dead  are  dishonored, 
and  that  violence  is  thus  done  to  the 
best  feelings  of  our  nature  ;  it  is  that 
great  slight  is  thrown  on  all  which,  as 
immortal  beings,  we  are  most  bound  to 
hold  dear,  a  great  acknowledgment  ap- 
parently withdrawn  of  truths  without 
which  "we  are  of  all  men  most  misera- 
ble." It  is  easy  and  specious  to  enlarge  on 
the  folly  of  paying  honor  to  the  prey  of  the 
worm,  conveying  with  so  much  parade 
to  the  grave  that  which  is  turning  into  a 
mass  of  corruption,  and  then,  perhaps, 
erecting  a  stately  cenotaph  to  perpetuate 
the  name  of  a  certain  portion  of  dust. 
And  satire  may  readily  point  bitter  and 
caustic  lines,  as  the  corpse  of  the  owner 
of  princely  estates  is  borne  along  to  the 
ancient  mausoleum,  in  all  the  gloomy 
magnificence  which  distinguishes  the 
obsequies  of  the  great ;  and  ask  with  a 
sort  of  cutting  severity,  whether  it  be 
not  almost  like  upbraiding  the  dead,  to 
pour  this  stern  gorgeousness  round  the 
most  humbling  of  earthly  transactions  i 
But  we  have  no  sympathy  whatsoever 
with  this  common  feeling,  that  there 
should  be  nothing  of  solemn  pomp  in 
consigning  the  human  body  to  the  grave. 
We  might  have,  if  we  know  nothing  of 
a  resurrection.  But  not  whilst  we  be- 
lieve in  the  general  Easter  of  this  crea- 
tion. Not  whilst  we  believe  that  the 
grave  is  but  a  temporary  habitation,  and 
that  what  is  "  sown  a  natural  body  "  is 
to  be  "  raised  a  spiritual."  The  funeral 
procession  attests,  and  does  homage  to, 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection.  It  is 
not  in  honor  of  the  body  as  mouldering 
into  dust  that  we  would  have  decent 
rites,  or  even,  where  consistent  with 
rank,  a  sumptuous  ceremonial  attending 
its  interment ;  but  in  honor  of  the  body 
as  destined  to  come  forth  gloriously  and 
indissolubly  reconstructed.  We  have  no 
affection  for  the  proud  monument,  if  it 
were  only  to  mark  where  the  foul 
16 


122 


NEHEMIAH  BEFORE  ARTAXERXES. 


worm  has  banqueted  ;  but  we  look  with 
pleasure  on  the  towering  marble,  as  in- 
dicating a  spot  where  "  the  trump  of 
God  "  shall  cause  a  sudden  and  myste- 
rious stir,  and  Christ  win  a  triumph  as 
"the  Resurrection  and  the  life." 

Then  suppose  Nehemiah  acquainted, 
as  we  are,  with  the  doctrine  of  the  resur- 
rection, and  we  do  but  find  in  the  em- 
phasis laid  upon  the  fact,  that  Jerusalem 
was  the  place  of  his  fathers'  sepulchres, 
the  testimony  of  his  belief  in  the  truths 
of  redemption,  and  of  his  desire  to  make 
and  keep  those  truths  known  to  the 
world.  "  I  cannot  bear,"  he  seems  to 
say,  "  that  my  fathers,  who  once  wit- 
nessed from  their  graves  to  the  most 
illustrious  of  facts,  should  be  silent  in 
the  dust.  I  long  to  give  again  a  thrilling 
voice  to  their  remains;  I  would  people 
their  cemeteries  with  heralds  of  futurity. 
I  may  well  be  downcast  when  I  think 
of  their  monuments  as  levelled  with  the 
earth;  not  because  I  ostentatiously  desire 
that  proud  marbles  may  certify  the  great- 
ness of  my  parentage,  but  because  I 
would  fain  that  men  should  thence  draw 
evidence  of  general  judgment  and  eternal 
life.  1  mourn  not  so  much  that  Jeru- 
salem has  ceased  to  be  a  queen  among 
cities ;  T  long  not  so  much  that  she 
should  rise  from  her  ashes,  to  be  again 
imperial  in  beauty  :  I  mourn  that  her 
desecrated  graves  speak  no  longer  of  a 
resurrection  :  I  long  that,  through  respect 
for  the  dead,  she  may  be  again  God's  wit- 
ness of  the  coming  immortality.  Oh,  why 
should  not  my  countenance  be  sad,  when 
the  city,  the  place  of  my  fathers'  sepul- 
chres, lieth  waste  1  If  thy  servant  have 
found  favor  in  thy  sight,  O  king,  send 
me  unto  the  city  of  my  fathers'  sepul- 
chres, that  I  may  build  it." 

Now  it  is  a  wholly  different,  but  not 
a  less  interesting  subject,  to  which  we 
have  to  give  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course. We  are  now  to  detach  our 
minds  from  Nehemiah  pleading  for  his 
fathers'  sepulchres,  and  fix  them  upon 
Nehemiah  addressing  himself  to  God 
in  ejaculatory  prayer.  It  is  among  the 
most  remarkable  statements  of  the  Bible, 
"  So  I  prayed  to  the  God  of  heaven," 
coming,  as  it  does,  between  the  question 
of  the  king,  "  For  what  dost  thou  make 
request]  "  and  the  answer  of  Nehemiah, 
"  That  thou  wouldest  send  me  unto  the 
city  of  my  fathers'  sepulchres."  There 
is  no  interval  of  time  :  Nehemiah  has 


had  no  opportunity  of  retiring,  that  he 
might  present  supplications  to  God.  He 
has  not  knelt  down — he  has  given  no 
outward  sign,  unless  perhaps  a  momen- 
tary uplifting  of  the  eye,  of  holding 
communion  with  an  invisible  being;  and 
nevertheless,  there,  in  the  midst  of  that 
thronged  and  brilliant  court,  and  in  the 
seconds  that  might  elapse  between  a 
question  and  its  answer,  he  has  prayed 
unto  God  for  direction  and  strength, 
and  received,  as  we  may  believe,  assist- 
ance from  heaven.  No  one  can  well 
doubt  what  it  was  for  which  Nehemiah 
prayed  :  it  may  justly  be  supposed  to 
have  been,  that  God  would  aid  him  in 
preferring  his  request,  and  dispose  Ar- 
taxerxes  to  grant  it.  And  when  you 
observe  that  the  request  appears  to  have 
been  at  once  successful — for  it  pleased 
the  king  to  send  Nehemiah,  and  to  grant 
him  royal  letters,  which  might  facilitate 
the  repairs  of  Jerusalem — you  must  al- 
low that  prayer  was  not  only  offered, 
but  answered,  in  the  moment  which 
seemed  too  brief  for  all  but  a  thought. 

Under  how  practical  and  comforting 
a  point  of  view  does  this  place  the 
truth  of  the  omnipresence  of  God.  It 
is  a  high  mystery,  one  which  quickly 
bewilders  the  understanding,  and  wea- 
ries even  the  imagination,  that  of  God 
being  every  where  present,  incapable, 
from  his  nature,  of  leaving  this  place 
and  passing  to  that,  but  always  and 
equally  occupying  every  spot  in  immen- 
sity, so  as  never  to  be  nearer  to  us,  and 
never  further  from  us,  continually  at 
our  side,  and  yet  continually  at  the  side 
of  every  other  being  in  the  measureless 
universe.  Yet,  with  all  its  mysterious- 
ness,  this  is  no  merely  sublime  but  bar- 
ren speculation,  no  subject  to  exercise 
the  mind  rather  than  benefit  the  heart. 
It  should  minister  wondrously  to  our 
comfort,  to  know  that,  whether  we  can 
explain  it  or  not,  we  are  always,  so  to 
speak,  in  contact  with  God  ;  so  that  in 
the  crowd  and  in  the  solitude,  in  the 
retirement  of  the  closet,  the  bustle  of 
business,  and  the  privacies  of  home,  by 
day  and  by  night,  he  is  alike  close  at 
hand,  near  enough  for  every  whisper, 
and  plenteous  enough  for  every  want. 
It  is  not  so  with  a  human  patron  or 
friend,  who,  whatever  be  his  power,  and 
his  desire  to  use  it  on  our  behalf,  can- 
not always  be  with  us,  to  observe  each 
necessity,    and    appoint    each    supply. 


NE'HEMIAH   I5EFORE   ARTAXERXES. 


123 


We  have  to  seek  out  this  friend  or  pa- 
tron, when  we  require  his  help  :  pro- 
bably he  is  distant  from  us  when  the 
most  needed  :  and  we  have  to  send  a 
message,  which  brings  no  reply  till  the 
season  have  passed  when  it  might  be  of 
avail.  How  different  with  God  !  in  less 
time  than  I  can  count,  the  desire  of  my 
heart  may  be  transmitted  to  this  invisi- 
ble Guardian  and  Guide,  find  gracious 
audience,  and  bring  down  upon  me  the 
blessing  which  I  need. 

If  there  be  opportunity,  then  truly 
it  may  become  me  to  seek  audience 
with  greater  and  more  palpable  solem- 
nity, prostrating  myself  reverently  be- 
fore him,  as  the  all-glorious  King,  and 
giving  devout  expression  to  my  wishes 
and  wants.  But  it  is  not  indispensable 
to  the  audience,  that  there  should  be 
this  outward  prostration,  and  this  set 
supplication.  The  heart  has  but  to 
breathe  its  desire,  and  God  is  acquaint- 
ed with  it  so  soon  as  formed,  and  may 
grant  it,  if  he  will,  before  the  tongue 
could  have  given  it  utterance.  O  that 
there  were  in  us  more  of  that  habit  of 
prayer,  which,  as  with  Nehemiah,  would 
not  suffer  us  to  make  request  to  man, 
without  first  sending  up  a  silent  petition 
to  God.  When  Scripture  speaks  of 
praying  "  without  ceasing,"  and  of  "  con- 
tinuing instant  in  prayer,"  it  is  general- 
ly thought  to  prescribe  what  cannot  be 
actually  done,  at  least  not  by  them  who 
are  necessarily  much  occupied  with 
temporal  concerns.  And  if  there  were 
no  prayer  but  those  most  solemn  and 
stated  acts,  when,  whether  in  private,  or 
in  the  public  assembly,  we  set  ourselves 
specifically  to  the  spreading  our  wants 
before  our  Father  in  heaven,  these  ex- 
pressions of  Holy  Writ  would  have  to 
be  interpreted  with  certain  restrictions-, 
or  would  belong  in  their  fulness  to  such 
only  as  might  abstract  themselves  alto- 
gether from  the  world.  But  forasmuch 
as  God  is  always  so  ready  and  able  to 
hear  that  ejaculatory  prayer,  the  sud- 
den utterance  of  the  heart,  when  there 
is  no  place  for  the  bending  of  the  knee, 
and  no  time  even  for  the  motion  of  the 
lip,  may  obtain  instant  audience  and 
answer,  what  is  to  prevent  there  being 
that  devotional  habit  which  shall  fulfil 
the  injunction  of  praying  "  without  ceas- 
ing," even  though,  as  with  numbers  of 
our  race,  there  be  but  few  moments  in 
the  day  which,  snatched  from  necessary 


toil,  can  be  professedly  consecrated  to 
communion  with  heaven  "? 

You  have  heard  of,  and  are  acquaint- 
ed with,  public  prayer,  and  private  pray- 
er, and  family  prayer  :  but  the  prayer 
of  which  We  now  speak,  ejaculatory 
prayer,  differs  from  all  these.  As  the 
name  denotes,  the  heart  should  be  as  a 
bow,  kept  always  strung,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  launch  prayer  as  an  arrow ; 
a  dart  which,  if  small,  may  yet  go  faster 
and  further  than  the  weightier  imple- 
ment of  more  labored  attempt.  The 
man  of  business,  he  need  not  enter  on 
a  single  undertaking  without  prayer : 
the  mariner,  he  need  not  unfurl  a  sail 
without  prayer;  the  traveller,  he  need 
not  face  a  danger  without  prayer;  the 
statesmen,  he  need  not  engage  in  a  de- 
bate without  prayer;  the  invalid,  he 
need  not  try  a  remedy  without  prayer ; 
the  accused,  he  need  not  meet  an  ac- 
cuser without  prayer.  Is  it  that  all  and 
each  of  these  must  make  a  clear  scene, 
ask  time  for  retirement,  and  be  left 
for  a  season  alone  with  the  Almighty  ? 
That  were  impossible  :  as  with  Nehe- 
miah, what  is  to  be  done  must  be  done 
on  the  moment,  and  in  the  presence 
of  fellow-men.  And  it  may  be  done. 
Blessed  be  God  for  this  privilege  of 
ejaculatory  prayer,  of  silent,  secret,  in- 
stantaneous petition  !  We  may  live  at 
the  foot  of  the  mercy-seat,  and  yet  be 
immersed  in  merchandise,  engrossed 
with  occupation,  or  pursued  by  a  crowd. 
We  may  hallow  and  enlighten  every 
thing  by  prayer,  though  we  seem,  and 
are,  engaged  from  morning  to  night 
with  secular  business,  and  thronged  by 
eager  adherents.  We  cannot  be  in  a 
difficulty  for  which  we  have  not  time  to 
ask  guidance,  in  a  peril  so  sudden  that 
we  cannot  find  a  guardian,  in  a  spot  so 
remote  that  we  may  not  people  it  with 
supporters.  Thought,  whose  rapid  flight 
distances  itself,  moves  but  half  as  quick 
as  prayer  :  earth  to  heaven,  and  heaven 
again  to  earth,  the  petition  and  the  an- 
swer, both  are  finished  in  that  indivisi- 
ble instant  which  suffices  for  the  mind's 
passage  through  infinite  space.  O  that 
you  may  not  neglect  the  privilege,  that 
you  may  cultivate  the  habit,  of  ejacula- 
tory prayer!  and  that  you  may  medi- 
tate on  the  example  of  Nehemiah.  If  I 
would  incite  you  to  habits  of  private 
devotion,  I  might  show  you  Daniel  in 
his  chamber,  "  kneeling  upon  his  knees 


124 


three  times  a  day."  If  I  would  com- 
mend to  you  the  public  gatherings  of 
the  church,  I  might  remind  you  of  what 
David  has  said,  "A  day  in  thy  courts 
is  better  than  a  thousand."  If  I  would 
inculcate  the  duty  of  family  prayer,  I 
might  turn  attention  to  Philemon,  and 
"  the  church  in  his  house."  But,  wish- 
ing to  make  you  carry,  as  it  were,  the 
altar  about  with  you — the  fire  ever  burn- 
ing, the  censer  ever  ready, — wishing 
that  you  may  resolve  nothing,  attempt 
nothing,  face  nothing,  without  prayer 
to  God  for  his  ever-mighty  grace,  I  give 
you  for  a  pattern  Nehemiah — who,  ask- 
ed by  Artaxerxes  for  what  he  made 
request,  tells  you,  "  So  I  prayed  to  the 
God  of  heaven,  and  I  said  unto  the 
king,  Send  me  unto  Judah,  the  city  of 
the  sepulchres  of  my  fathers." 

There  is  nothing  that  we  need  add 
in  the  way  of  concluding  exhortation. 
The  latter  part,  at  least,  of  our  subject 
has  been  so  eminently  practical,  that  we 
should  fear  to  weaken  the  impression 
by  repetition.  Only,  if  there  be  any 
thing  sacred  and  touching  in  the   sep- 


ulchres of  our  fathers;  if  the  spot,  where 
those  dear  to  us  sleep,  seem  haunted  by 
their  memory,  so  that  it  were  like  for- 
getting or  insulting  them  to  suffer  it  to 
be  defiled,  let  us  remember  that  the 
best  monument  we  can  rear  to  the  righte- 
ous is  our  copy  of  their  excellence — not 
the  record  of  their  virtues  graven  on 
the  marble  or  on  the  brass,  but  their  ex- 
ample repeated  in  our  actions  and  habits. 
If  with  Nehemiah,  we  would  show  re- 
spect to  the  dead,  with  Nehemiah  let 
us  strive  to  be  useful  to  the  living. 
Then,  when  sepulchres  shall  crumble, 
not  through  human  neglect,  but  because 
the  Almighty  bids  them  give  back  their 
prey,  we  may  hope  to  meet  our  fathers 
in  the  triumph  and  the  gloriousness  of 
immortality.  Our  countenances  shall 
not  be  sad,  though  "  the  place  of  their 
sepulchres  lieth  waste,  and  the  gates 
thereof  are  consumed  with  fire,"  even 
with  the  last  tremendous  conflagration  ; 
we  shall  exult  in  knowing  that  they  and 
we  "  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 


SERMON    XIV 


JABEZ. 


°  And  Jabez  was  more  honorable  than  his  brethren,  and  his  mother  called  his  name  Jabez,  saying-,  Because  I  bare  him 
with  sorrow.  And  Jabez  called  on  the  God  of  Israel,  saying,  Oh  tliat  thou  wouldest  bless  me  indeed,  and  enlarge 
my  coast,  and  that  thine  hand  misrlit  be  with  me,  and  that  thou  wouldest  keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may  not  grieve 
me !    And  God  granted  him  that  which  he  requested."— I  Chron.  iv.  9,  10. 


If  we  had  to  fix  on  a  portion  of  Scrip- 
ture which  might  be  removed  from  our 
Bibles  without  being  much  missed,  we 
should  probably  select  the  first  nine 
chapters  of  this  first  Book  of  Chroni- 


*This  Sermon  was  preached  on  New  Year's 
day,  and  a  collection  was  afterwards  made  in 
aid  of  a  District  Visiting  Society. 


cles.  A  mere  record  of  names,  a  cata- 
logue of  genealogies ;  the  eye  glances 
rapidly  over  them,  and  we  are  inclined 
to  hasten  on  to  parts  which  may  pre- 
sent something  more  interesting  and 
instructive.  Yet  what  a  startling,  what 
an  impressive  thing,  should  be  a  record 
of  names,  a  catalogue  of  genealogies  ! 
the  chapters  deserve  the  closest  atten- 


125 


don,  even  if  you  keep  out  of  sight  their 
bearing  on  the  descent  and  parentage 
of  the  Christ.  It  is  a  New  Year's  day 
sermon,  this  long  list  of  fathers  and 
their  children.  What  are  all  these 
names  which  fill  page  after  page]  The 
names  of  beings  who  were  once  as 
warm  with  life  as  ourselves  ;  who  moved 
upon  the  earth  as  we  move  now  ;  who 
had  their  joys,  their  sorrows,  their  hopes, 
their  fears,  their  projects  ;  who  thought, 
perhaps,  as  little  of  death  as  many  of 
us,  but  who  were  sooner  or  later  cut 
down,  even  as  all  now  present  shall  be. 
They  are  the  names  of  those  who  once 
lived;  nay,  they  are  names  of  those  who 
still  live;  and  this  is  perhaps  even  the 
harder  to  realize  of  the  two.  The  dead 
are  not  dead  ;  they  have  but  changed 
their  place  of  sojourn.  The  mighty  cata- 
logue, which  it  wearies  us  to  look  at,  is 
not  a  mere  register  of  those  who  have 
been,  of  trees  of  the  forest  which,  hav- 
ing flourished  their  appointed  time, 
have  withered  or  been  cut  down  ;  it  is  a 
register  of  existing,  intelligent,  sentient 
creatures ;  not  one  who  has  been  in- 
scribed on  the  scroll  which,  headed  by 
Adam,  looks  like  a  leaf  from  the  volume 
of  eternity,  has  ever  passed  into  nothing- 
ness :  written  amongst  the  living,  he 
was  written  amongst  the  immortal  ; 
earth  might  receive  his  dust,  but  his 
spirit,  which  is  more  nearly  himself,  has 
never  known  even  a  suspension  of  be- 
ing :  thousands  of  years  ago  the  man 
was  ;  at  this  moment  the  man  is  ;  thou- 
sands of  years  to  come  the  man  shall  be. 
We  repeat  it — there  is  something 
very  hard  to  realize  in  this  fact,  that  all 
who  have  ever  lived  are  still  alive.*  We 
talk  of  an  over-peopled  country,  even  of 
an  over-peopled  globe — where  and  what, 
then,  is  the  territory  into  which  genera- 
tion after  generation  has  been  swept,  the 
home  of  the  untold  myriads,  the  rich,  the 
poor,  the  mighty,  the  mean,  the  old,  the 
young,  the  righteous,  the  wicked,  who, 
having  once  been  reckoned  amongst 
men,  must  everlastingly  remain  inscribed 
in  the  chronicles  of  the  race ;  inscribed 
in  them,  not  as  beings  which  have  been, 
but  as  beings  which  are  1  We  have  all 
heard  of  the  dissolute  man,  said  to  have 
been  converted  through  hearing  the  fifth 


*  This  fact  is  excellently  treated  in  a  striking 
sermon  by  Mr.  Newman,  on  the  "  Individuality 
of  the  Soul." 


chapter  of  the  Book  of  Genesis,  in  which 
mention  is  made  of  the  long  lives  of 
Adam,  Seth,  Enos,  Methuselah,  and 
others,  and  eacli  notice  is  concluded 
with  the  words,  "  and  he  died."  It 
came  appallingly  home  to  the  dissolute 
man,  that  the  most  protracted  life  must 
end  at  last  in  death  ;  he  could  not  get 
rid  of  the  fact  that  life  had  to  terminate, 
and  he  found  no  peace  till  he  had  pro- 
vided that  it  might  terminate  well.  But 
suppose  that  each  notice  had  been  con- 
cluded, as  it  might  have  been,  with  the 
words,  "  and  he  lives,"  would  there  not 
have  been  as  much,  would  there  not  have 
been  more  to  startle  and  seize  upon  the 
dissolute  man  ]  "  He  died,"  does  not 
necessarily  involve  a  state  of  retribu- 
tion ;  "  he  lives,"  crowds  the  future  with 
images  of  judgment  and  recompense. 
You  hear  men  often  say,  in  regard  of 
something  which  has  happened,  some- 
thing which  they  have  lost,  something 
which  they  have  done,  or  something 
which  they  have  suffered,  "  Oh,  it  will 
be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence  !  " 
All  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence  !  far 
enough  from  that.  They  speak  as  if  they 
should  certainly  be  dead  a  hundred  years 
hence,  and  as  if,  therefore,  it  would  then 
necessarily  have  become  unimportant 
what  turn  or  course  events  may  have 
taken.  Whereas,  they  will  be  as  truly 
alive  a  hundred  years  hence  as  they  are 
now ;  and  it  will  not  be  the  same  a  hun- 
dred years  hence  whether  this  thing  hap- 
pened or  that,  this  action  were  performed 
or  that.  For  there  is  nothing  so  trivial 
but  that  it  may  affect  man's  future  being  : 
in  the  moral  world,  as  in  the  physical, 
"no  motion  impressed  by  natural  causes, 
or  by  human  agency,  is  ever  obliter- 
ated;"* of  what,  then,  dare  we  affirm, 


*  Babbage,  the  ninth  Bridgewater  Treatise. — 
"  What  a  strange  chaos  is  this  wide  atmosphere 
we  breathe  !  Every  atom,  impressed  with  good 
and  with  ill,  retains  at  once  the  motions  which 
philosophers  and  sages  have  imparted  to  it, 
mixed  and  combined  in  ten  thousand  ways  with 
all  that  is  worthless  and  base.  The  air  itself  is 
one  vast  library,  on  whose  pages  are  for  ever 
written  all  that  man  has  ever  said,  or  ever  Whis- 
pered. There,  in  their  mutable  but  unerring 
characters,  mixed  with  the  earliest  as  well  as  the 
latest  sighs  of  mortality,  stand  for  ever  recorded, 
vows  unredeemed,  promises  unfulfilled,  perpet- 
uating, in  the  united  movements  of  each  particle, 
the  testimony  of  man's  changeful  will. 

"If  the  Almighty  stamped  on  the  brow  of  the 
earliest  murderer  the  indelible  and  visible  mark 
of  his  guilt,  he  has  also  established  laws  by  which 


126 


that,  let  it  be  as  it  may,  it  will  be  all  the 
same  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand,  or  a 
million  years  hence  ] 

"We  recur,  then,  to  what  gave  rise  to 
these  remarks  ;  the  long  lists  of  names 
which  occupy  the  first  nine  chapters  of 
this  First  Book  of  Chronicles.  We  affirm 
of  these  lists,  that  without  any  comment, 
they  furnish  a  most  appropriate  sermon 
for  New  Year's  day.  Names  of  the 
dead,  and  yet  names  of  the  living,  how 
should  their  mere  enumeration  suggest 
the  thought  of  our  days  upon  earth  being 
as  a  shadow,  and  yet  of  those  days  being 
days  of  probation  for  an  everlasting  exist- 
ence !  And  what  thought  is  so  fitted  to 
New  Year's  day,  when,  as  we  commence 
one  of  the  great  divisions  of  time,  the 
very  season  might  seem  to  speak  of 
the  rapid  flight  of  life,  and  of  the  con- 
sequent duty  of  attempting  forthwith 
preparation  for  the  future  ?  To  read 
these  chapters  of  the  Chronicles,  is  like 
entering  avast  cemetery  where  sleep  the 
dead  of  many  generations.  But  a  ceme- 
tery is  the  place  for  a  New  Year's  day 
meditation,  seeing  that  we  have  just  con- 
signed the  old  year  to  the  grave,  with  its 
joys,  its  sorrows,  its  plans,  its  events,  its 
mercies,  its  sins.  And  are  they  dead,  the 
multitudes  whose  names  are  inscribed  on 
the  gloomy  walls  and  crowded  stones  of 
the  cemetery,  Gomer,  and  Javan,  and 
Tubal,  and  Nahor  1  Nay,  not  so:  their 
dust  indeed  is  beneath  our  feet,  but  even 
that  dust  shall  live  again  ;  and  all  the  while 
their  spirits,  conscious  still,  sentient  still, 
occupy  some  unknown  region,  miserable 
or  happy  beyond  what  they  ever  were 
upon  earth,  though  reserved  for  yet  more 
of  wretchedness  or  gladness  at  an  ap- 
proaching resurrection  and  general  judg- 
ment. Neither  is  the  past  year  dead  :  not 
a  moment  of  it  but  lives  and  breathes,  not 
one  of  its  buried  occurrences  that  has 
not  a  present  existence,  exercising  some 
measure  of  influence  over  our  actual 
condition,  and  reserved  to  exercise  a  yet 
stronger,  when  it  shall  come  forth  as  a 


every  suceeding  criminal  is  not  less  irrevocably 
chained  to  the  testimony  of  his  crime;  tor  every 
atom  of  his  mortal  frame,  through  whatever 
changes  its  several  particles  may  migrate,  will 
stiil  retain,  adhering  to  it  through  every  combina- 
tion, some  movement  derived  from  that  very 
muscular  effort  by  which  the  crime  itself  was 
perpetrated." — Chapter  ix.  "  On  the  Permanent 
Impression  of  our  Words  and  Actions  on  the 
Globe  we  inhabit." 


witness  at  the  last  dread  assize,  bearing 
testimony  which  must  help  to  determine 
whether  we  are  to  be  for  ever  with  the 
Lord,  or  banished  for  ever  from  the 
light  of  his  presence.  Thus  these  regis- 
tered names  might  themselves  serve  as 
an  appropriate  sermon.  God  is  witness 
that  it  is  in  perfect  sincerity,  and  with 
every  sentiment  of  christian  affection,  that, 
adopting  the  customary  language,  I  wish 
you  all  a  happy  new  year.  But  I  must 
give  a  voice  to  the  old  year.  It  must 
speak  to  you  from  its  sepulchre.  No 
burying  of  the  past  as  though  it  were 
never  to  revive.  No  reading  of  names 
in  the  Chronicles  as  though  they  were 
names  of  those  who  have  altogether 
ceased  to  be.  Oh,  I  wish  you  a  happy 
new  year;  but  happy  it  shall  not,  cannot 
be,  in  any  such  sense  as  befits  beings  of 
such  origin,  such  capacity,  such  destiny 
as  yourselves,  unless  you  bear  diligently 
in  mind  that  you  are  mortal,  yet  cannot 
die;  that  things  may  be  past,  yet  cannot 
perish  ;  that  days  may  be  forgotten,  but 
never  can  forget. 

We  should  receive,  however,  a  wrong 
impression  in  regard  of  these  chapters 
of  the  First  Book  of  Chronicles,  were 
we  to  suppose  them  valuable  only  on 
such  accounts  as  have  already  been  in- 
dicated. They  are  not  a  mere  record 
of  names,  though  on  a  cursory  glance, 
we  might  conclude  that  they  contained 
nothing  else,  and  that  therefore,  after 
one  or  two  general  reflections,  we  might 
safely  proceed  to  more  instructive  por- 
tions of  Scripture.  Interspersed  with 
the  names,  there  occur,  here  and  there, 
brief,  but  pregnant,  notices  of  persons 
and  things,  as  though  inserted  to  reward 
the  diligent  student,  who,  in  place  of 
taking  for  granted  that  a  catalogue  of 
names  could  not  be  worth  reading,  should 
go  through  it  with  all  care,  fearing  to 
miss  some  word  of  information  or  admo- 
nition. 

Our  text  is  a  remarkable  case  in 
point.  Here  is  a  chapter  which  seems 
made  up  of  genealogies  and  names. 
Let  me  skip  it,  might  be  the  feeling  of 
the  reader ;  what  good  can  I  get  from 
learning  that  "  Penuel  was  the  father 
of  Gedor,  and  Ezer  the  father  of  Hu- 
shah  V  But  if  he  were  to  skip  it  he 
would  miss  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  interesting  passages  in  the  Bible, 
for  such,  we  think  to  show  you,  is  a 
just  description  of  our  text.     We  know 


127 


nothing  whatsoever  of  the  Jabez  here 
commemorated  beyond  what  we  find  in 
these  two  verses.  But  this  is  enough 
to  mark  him  out  as  worthy,  in  no  ordi- 
nary degree,  of  being  admired  and  imi- 
tated. There  is  a  depth,  and  a  compre- 
hensiveness, in  the  registered  prayer  of 
this  unknown  individual — unknown  ex- 
cept from  that  prayer — which  should 
suffice  to  make  him  a  teacher  of  the 
righteous  in  every  generation.  And  if 
we  wanted  a  prayer  especially  suited  to 
New  Year's  day,  where  could  we  find 
more  appropriate  utterances]  If  we 
would  begin,  as  we  ought  to  begin,  the 
year  with  petitions  that  such  portion  of 
it  as  God  may  appoint  us  to  spend  upon 
earth  may  be  spent  in  greater  spiritual 
enlargement,  in  deeper  purity  of  heart 
end  of  life,  and  in  more  abundant  ex- 
perience of  the  goodness  of  the  Lord, 
3han  may  have  marked  the  past  year, 
what  more  copious,  more  adequate,  ex- 
pressions could  any  one  of  us  use  than 
these,  "  Oh  that  thou  wouldest  bless  me 
indeed,  and  enlarge  my  coast,  and  that 
thine  hand  might  be  with  me,  and  that 
thou  wouldest  keep  me  from  evil  that  it 
may  not  grieve  me  ]"  Happy,  happy 
man,  happy  woman,  happy  child,  who 
should  pray  this  prayer  in  faith,  and 
thus  insure  that  it  shall  have  to  be 
said,  as  of  Jabez,  "  And  God  granted 
him  that  which  he  requested."  But 
this  is  anticipating  our  subject.  Let 
us  now  take  the  several  parts  of  the 
text  in  succession,  commenting  upon 
each,  and  searching  out  the  lessons 
which  may  be  useful  to  ourselves.  The 
first  verse  contains  a  short  account  of 
Jabez;  the  second  is  occupied  by  his 
prayer.  Come,  and  let  us  see  whether 
there  be  not  something  to  instruct  us 
even  in  the  brief  narrative  of  his  life, 
and  whether,  as  "strangers  and  pilgrims 
upon  earth,"  with  a  battle  to  fight,  a 
race  to  run,  an  inheritance  to  possess, 
we  can  find  more  appropriate  supplica- 
tions than  those  in  which  this  Jabez 
called  on  the  Lord  God  of  Israel. 

Now  there  is  no  denying — for  it  is 
forced  on  us  by  every  day's  experience 
— that  we  are  short-sighted  beings,  so 
little  able  to  look  into  the  future  that 
we  constantly  miscalculate  as  to  what 
would  be  for  our  good,  anticipating  evil 
from  what  is  working  for  benefit,  and 
reckoning  upon  benefit  from  that  which 
may    prove    fraught    with    nothing    but 


evil.  How  frequently  does  that  which 
we  have  baptized  with  our  tears  make 
the  countenance  sunny  with  smiles  ! 
how  frequently,  again,  does  that  which 
we  have  welcomed  with  smiles  wring 
from  us  tears  !  That  which  has  raised 
anxious  thoughts  proves  often  a  rich 
source  of  joy  ;  and  as  often,  that  which 
hardly  cost  us  a  care,  so  bright  was  its 
promise,  wounds  to  the  quick,  and  bur- 
dens us  with  grief.  We  do  not  know 
the  particular  reasons  which  influenced 
the  mother  of  Jabez  to  call  him  by  that 
name,  a  name  which  means  "  Sorrow- 
ful." We  are  merely  told,  "  His  moth- 
er called  his  name  Jabez,  saying,  be- 
cause I  bare  him  with  sorrow."  Wheth- 
er it  were  that  she  brought  forth  this 
son  with  more  than  common  anguish, 
or  whether,  as  it  may  have  been,  the 
time  of  his  birth  were  the  time  of  her 
widowhood,  so  that  the  child  came  and 
found  no  father  to  welcome  him — the 
mother  evidently  felt  but  little  of  a 
mother's  joy,  and  looked  on  her  infant 
with  forebodings  and  fears.  Perhaps 
it  could  hardly  have  been  her  own  bodily 
suffering  which  made  her  fasten  on  the 
boy  a  dark  and  gloomy  appellation,  for, 
the  danger  past,  she  would  rather  have 
given  a  name  commemorative  of  de- 
liverance, remembering  "  no  more  her 
anguish  for  joy  that  a  man  was  born 
into  the  world."  Indeed,  when  Rachel 
bare  Benjamin,  she  called  his  name 
Benoni,  that  is,  the  son  of  my  sorrow; 
but  then  it  was  "  as  her  soul  was  in  de- 
parting, for  she  died."  And  when  there 
pressed  upon  a  woman  in  her  travail 
heavier  things  than  her  bodily  pains — 
as  with  the  wife  of  Phinehas,  to  whom 
were  brought  sad  "tidings  that  the  ark 
of  God  was  taken,  and  that  her  father- 
in-law  and  her  husband  were  dead  " — 
the  mind  could  fix  on  the  more  fatal 
facts,  and  perpetuate  their  remembrance 
through  the  name  of  the  child;  she  call- 
ed— and  it  was  with  her  last  breath,  for 
she  too,  like  Rachel,  died — she  cal'ed 
the  child  Ichabod,  "  saying,  The  glory 
is  departed  from  Israel,  for  the  ark  of 
God  is  taken." 

We  may  well,  therefore,  suppose 
that  the  mother  of  Jabez  had  deeper 
and  more  lasting  sorrows  to  register 
in  the  name  of  her  boy  than  those  of 
the  giving  him  birth.  And  whatsoever 
may  have  been  the  cause,  whether  do- 
mestic affliction  or  public  calamity,  we 


128 


may  consider  the  woman  as  having 
bent  in  bitterness  over  her  new-born 
chihl,  having  only  tears  to  give  him  as 
his  welcome  to  the  world,  and  feeling 
it  impossible  to  associate  with  him  even 
a  hope  of  happiness.  She  had  probably 
looked  with  different  sentiments  on  her 
other  children.  She  had  clasped  them 
to  her  breast  with  all  a  mother's  glad- 
ness, and  gazed  upon  them  in  the  fond 
anticipation  of  their  proving  the  sup- 
ports and  comforts  of  her  own  declining 
years.  But  with  Jabez  it  was  all  gloom  ; 
the  mother  felt  as  if  she  could  never  be 
happy  again  :  this  boy  brought  nothing 
but  an  accession  of  care,  anxiety,  and 
grief;  and  if  she  must  give  him  a  name, 
let  it  be  one  which  may  always  remind 
himself  and  others  of  the  dark  heritage 
to  which  he  had  been  born.  And  yet 
the  history  of  the  family  is  gathered  in- 
to the  brief  sentence,  "  Jabez  was  more 
honorable  than  his  brethren."  The  child 
of  sorrow  outstripped  all  the  others  in 
those  things  which  are  "  acceptable  to 
God,  and  approved  of  men."  Nothing 
is  told  us  of  his  brethren,  except  that 
they  were  less  honorable  than  himself; 
they  too  may  have  been  excellent,  and 
perhaps  as  much  is  implied,  but  Jabez 
took  the  lead,  and  whether  or  not  the 
youngest  in  years,  surpassed  every  other 
in  piety  and  renown.  Oh,  if  the  mother 
lived  to  see  the  manhood  of  her  sons, 
how  strangely  must  the  name  Jabez,  a 
name  probably  given  in  a  moment  of 
despondency  and  faithlessness,  have  fall- 
en on  her  ear,  as  it  was  woven  into 
message  after  message,  each  announcing 
that  the  child  of  sorrow  was  all  that  the 
most  affectionate  parent  could  wish,  and 
more  than  the  most  aspiring  could  have 
hoped.  She  may  then  have  regretted 
the  gloomy  and  ominous  name,  feeling 
as  though  it  reproached  her  for  having 
yielded  to  her  grief,  and  allowed  her- 
self to  give  way  to  dreary  forebodings. 
It  may  have  seemed  to  her  as  a  stand- 
ing memorial  of  her  want  of  confidence 
in  God,  and  of  the  falseness  of  human  cal- 
culations ;  and  as  she  embraced  Jabez, 
whose  every  action  endeared,  as  it  en- 
nobled him  the  more,  she  may  have  felt 
that  the  sorrow  had  to  be  transferred 
from  the  name  to  her  own  heart ;  she 
herself  had  to  grieve,  but  only  that, 
through  mistrust  of  the  Lord,  she  had 
recorded  her  fear  where  she  should 
have  exhibited  her  faith. 


And  is  not  this  brief  notice  of  the 
mother  of  Jabez  full  of  warning  and 
admonition  to  ourselves  ?  How  ready 
are  we  to  give  the  name  Jabez  to  per- 
sons or  things,  which,  could  we  but  look 
into  God's  purpose,  or  repose  on  his 
promise,  we  might  regard  as  designed 
to  minister  permanently  to  our  security 
and  happiness.  "  All  the\se  things,"  said 
the  patriarch  Jacob,  "  are  against  me," 
as  one  trial  after  another  fell  to  his  lot : 
if  he  had  been  asked  to  name  each  event, 
the  loss  of  Joseph,  the  binding  of  Simeon, 
the  sending  away  of  Benjamin,  he 
would  have  written  Jabez  upon  each — 
so  dark  did  it  seem,  to  him  so  sure  to  work 
only  wo.  And  yet,  as  you  all  know,  it 
was  by  and  through  these  gloomy  deal- 
ings that  a  merciful  God  was  providing 
for  the  sustenance  of  the  patriarch  and 
his  household,  for  their  support  and  ag- 
grandizement in  a  season  of  extraordi- 
nary pressure.  As  Joseph  said  to  his 
brethren,  "  God  did  send  me  before 
you  to  preserve  life" — what  man  would 
have  named  Jabez  was  God's  minister 
for  good.  Thus  it  continually  happens 
in  regard  of  ourselves.  We  give  the 
sorrowful  title  to  that  which  is  design- 
ed for  the  beneficent  end.  Judging 
only  by  present  appearances,  allowing 
our  fears  and  feelings,  rather  than  our 
faith,  to  take  the  estimate  or  fix  the 
character  of  occurrences,  we  look  with 
gloom  on  our  friends,  and  with  melan- 
choly on  our  sources  of  good.  Sick- 
ness, we  call  it  Jabez,  though  it  may 
be  sent  to  minister  to  our  spiritual 
health  ;  poverty,  we  call  it  Jabez,  though 
coming  to  help  us  to  the  possession  of 
heavenly  riches  ;  bereavement,  we  call 
it  Jabez,  though  designed  to  graft  us 
more  closely  into  the  household  of  God. 
O  for  a  better  judgment !  or  rather,  O 
for  a  simpler  faith  !  We  cannot  indeed 
see  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and 
therefore  cannot  be  sure  that  what  lises 
in  cloud  will  set  in  vermilion  and  gold; 
but  we  need  not  take  upon  ourselves  to 
give  the  dark  name,  as  though  we  could 
not  be  deceived  in  regard  of  the  nature. 
The  mother  of  him  who  proved  "  more 
honorable  than  his  brethren  "  may  have 
been  unable  to  prognosticate  aught  but 
sorrow  for  and  from  this  child — so 
much  of  threatening  aspect  may  have 
hung  round  his  entrance  upon  life — but 
she  should  have  called  him  by  a  name 
expressive  of  dependence  on  God,  ra- 


129 


£her  than  of  despondency  and  soreness 
of  heart. 

Let  us  derive  this  lesson  from  the 
concise  but  striking  narrative  in  the  first 
verse  of  our  text.  Let  us  neither  look 
confidently  on  what  promises  best,  nor 
despairingly  on  what  wears  the  most 
threatening  appearance.  God  often 
wraps  up  the  withered  leaf  of  disappoint- 
ment in  the  bright  purple  bud,  and  as 
often  unfolds  the  golden  flower  of  enjoy- 
ment in  the  nipped  and  blighted  shoot. 
Experience  is  full  of  evidence  that  there 
is  no  depending  on  appearances ;  that 
things  turn  out  widely  different  from 
what  could  have  been  anticipated  ;  the 
child  of  most  promise  perhaps  living  to 
pierce  as  with  a  sword,  the  child  of 
least,  to  apply  balsam  to  the  wound  ; 
events  which  have  menaced  ministering 
to  happiness,  and  those  which  have  come 
like  enemies  doing  the  office  of  friends. 
So  that,  if  there  be  one  duty  more 
pressed  upon  us  by  what  we  might  ob- 
serve than  another,  it  is  that  of  waiting 
meekly  upon  the  Lord,  never  cherishing 
a  wish  that  we  might  choose  for  our- 
selves, and  never  allowing  a  doubt  that 
he  orders  all  for  our  good.  Oh,  be 
careful  that  you  pronounce  not  harshly 
of  his  dealings,  that  you  provoke  him  not 
by  speaking  as  though  you  could  see 
through  his  purpose,  and  decide  on  its 
being  one  of  unmixed  calamity.  If  you 
are  so  ready  with  your  gloomy  names, 
he  may  suspend  his  gracious  designs. 
If,  in  a  spirit  of  repining  or  unbelief,  you 
brand  as  Jabez  what  may  be  but  a  bless- 
ing in  disguise,  no  marvel  if  sometimes, 
in  just  anger  and  judgment,  he  allow  the 
title  to  prove  correct,  and  suffer  not  this 
Jabez,  this  child  born  in  sorrow,  to  be- 
come to  you  as  otherwise  it  might,  more 
honorable,  more  profitable,  than  any  of 
its  brethren. 

But  let  us  now  turn  to  the  prayer  of 
Jabez  :  there  might  be  a  sermon  made 
on  each  petition  ;  but  we  must  content 
ourselves  with  a  brief  comment  on  the 
successive  requests.  Yet  we  ought  not 
to  examine  the  prayer  without  pausing 
to  observe  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  It 
is  not  stated  that  Jabez  called  on  God, 
but  on  "  the  God  of  Israel  :"  and,  unim- 
portant as  this  may  seem  on  a  cursory 
glance,  it  is  a  particular  which,  duly  pon- 
dered, will  be  found  full  of  beauty  and 
interest. 

There  are  few  things  more  significant 
Vol.  II. 


than  the  difference  in  the  manner  in 
which  God  is  addressed  by  saints  undei 
the  old  and  under  the  new  dispensation. 
Patriarchs  pray  to  God  as  the  God  of 
their  fathers;  Apostles  pray  to  him  as 
the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
In  both  forms  of  address  there  is  an  in- 
timation of  the  same  fact,  that  we  need 
something  to  encourage  us  in  approach- 
ing unto  God  ;  that  exposed  as  we  are 
to  his  just  wrath  for  our  sins,  we  can 
have  no  confidence  in  speaking  to  him 
as  to  absolute  Deity.  There  must  be 
something  to  lean  upon,  some  plea  to 
urge,  otherwise  we  can  but  shrink  from 
the  presence  of  One  so  awful  in  his 
gloriousness  ;  our  lips  must  be  sealed  ; 
for  what  can  it  avail  that  corrupt  crea- 
tures should  ask  mercies  from  a  Being, 
all  whose  attributes  pledge  him  to  the 
pouring  on  them  vengeance  ]  They 
may  tell  you  that  prayer  is  the  voice 
of  nature — but  it  is  of  nature  in 
utter  ignorance  of  itself  and  of  God. 
The  savage  offers  his  petitions  to 
the  unknown  spirit  of  the  mountain  or 
the  flood  ;  yes — to  the  unknown  spirit : 
let  the  savage  be  better  informed  as  to 
what  God  is,  let  him  be  also  taught  as  to 
what  himself  is,  and  he  will  be  more 
disposed  to  the  silence  of  despair  than 
to  the  importunity  of  supplication.  We 
must,  then,  have  some  title  with  which  to 
address  God — some  title  which,  interfer- 
ing not  with  his  majesty  or  his  mysteri- 
ousness,  may  yet  place  him  under  a  cha- 
racter which  shall  give  hope  to  the  sinful 
as  they  prostrate  themselves  before  him. 
We  need  not  say,  that  under  the  Gospel 
dispensation,  this  title  should  be  that 
which  is  used  by  St.  Paul,  "the  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Having 
such  a  Mediator  through  whom  to  ap- 
proach, there  is  no  poor  supplicant 
who  may  not  come  with  boldness  to  the 
mercy-seat.  But  under  earlier  dispen- 
sations, when  the  mediatorial  office  was 
but  imperfectly  made  known,  men  had 
to  seize  on  other  pleas  and  encourage- 
ments ;  and  then  it  was  a  great  thing, 
that  they  could  address  God  as  you  con- 
tinually find  him  addressed,  as  the  God 
of  Israel,  the  God  of  their  fathers,  the 
God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob. 
The  title  assured  them  that  God  was 
ready  to  hear  prayer  and  to  answer  it. 
They  went  before  God,  thronged,  as  it 
were,  with  remembrances  of  mercies 
bestowed,  deliverances  vouchsafed,  evils 
17 


130 


averted  :  how  could  they  fear  that  God 
was  too  great  to  be  addressed,  too  occu- 
pied ti>  reply,  or  too  stern  to  show  kind- 
ness, when  they  bore  in  mind  how  they 
hod  shielded  their  parents,  hearkened  to 
their  cry,  and  proved  himself  unto  them 
"  a  very  present  help  "  in  all  time  of 
trouble  ? 

Ah,  and  though  under  the  new  dispen- 
sation, "  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ"  be  the  great  character  under 
which  God  should  be  addressed  by  us  in 
prayer,  there  is  no  need  for  our  altogether 
dropping  the  title,  the  God  of  our  fathers. 
It  might  often  do  much  to  cheer  a  sor- 
rowful heart  and  to  encourage  a  timid,  to 
address  God  as  the  God  of  our  fathers. 
The  God  in  whom  my  parents'  trusted, 
the  God  who  heard  my  parents'  cries, 
the  God  who  supplied  my  parents'  wants 
— oh,  there  is  many  a  poor  wanderer 
who  would  be  more  encouraged,  and 
more  admonished,  through  such  a  re- 
membrance of  God  as  this,  than  through 
all  the  definitions  of  a  rigid  theology. 
There  are  some  here — the  mother  did 
not,  indeed,  give  them  the  name  Jabez 
at  their  birth  ;  she  looked  on  them  hope- 
fully, with  eyes  brimful  of  gladness;  but 
they  have  since  sorely  wrung  the  hearts 
of  their  parents-  -disobedient,  dissipated, 
thankless,  that  sharper  thing,  it  is  said, 
than  the  tooth  of  the  serpent.  There 
are  some  such  here;  some  who  helped 
to  bring  down  a  father's  "  grey  hairs 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave :"  others,  whose 
parents  still  survive  ;  but  if  you  could 
look  in  unexpectedly  on  those  parents, 
you  might  often  find  them  shedding 
scalding  tears,  shedding  them  on  account 
of  a  child  who  is  to  them  a  Jabez,  as 
causing  only  grief,  whatever  brighter 
name  they  gave  him  amid  the  hopes  and 
promises  of  baptism.  We  speak  to  those 
of  you  whose  consciences  bear  witness, 
that  their  parents  would  have  predicted 
but  truth  had  they  named  them  Jabez, 
that  is,  sorrowful.  We  want  to  bring 
you  to  begin  the  new  year  with  resolu- 
tions of  amendment  and  vows  of  better 
things.  But  resolutions  and  vows  are 
worth  nothing,  except  as  made  in  God's 
strength  and  dependence  on  his  grace. 
And  therefore  must  you  pray  to  God  :  it 
were  vain  to  hope  any  thing  from  you 
unless  you  will  give  yourselves  to  prayer. 
But  how  shall  you  address  God,  the  God 
whom  you  have  neglected,  the  God  whom 
you   have   provoked,  the  God  of  whom 


you  might  justly  fear,  that  he  is  too  high, 
too  holy,  and  too  just,  to  receive  petitions 
from  such  as  ourselves  1  Oh,  we  might 
give  you  lofty  titles,  but  they  would 
only  bewilder  you ;  we  might  define 
him  by  his  magnificent  attributes,  but 
they  would  rather  terrify  than  encourage 
you.  But  it  may  soften,  aud  at  the  same 
time  strengthen  you  ;  it  may  aid  your 
contrition,  wring  from  you  tears,  and  yet 
fill  you  with  hope,  to  go  before  God 
with  all  the  imagery  around  you  of  the 
home  of  your  childhood,  the  mind's  eye 
arraying  the  reverend  forms  of  those 
who  gave  you  birth,  as  they  kneel  down 
in  anguish,  and  cry  unto  the  Lord — ay, 
cry  on  your  behalf,  and  cry  not  in  vain; 
for  it  may  be  in  answer  to  their  prayer, 
that  you  will  now  attempt  to  pray.  Oh, 
we  shall  indeed  hope  for  you,  ye  wan- 
derers, ye  prodigals,  if,  when  ye  go 
hence,  ye  will  seek  the  solitude  of  your 
chambers  and  fall  upon  your  knees,  and, 
allowing  memory  to  do  its  office,  how- 
ever painful  and  reproachful,  address 
God,  as  Jabez  addressed  him,  as  the  God 
of  Israel,  the  God  of  your  parents. 

And  what  did  Jabez  pray  for?  for 
great  things — great,  if  you  suppose  him 
to  have  spoken  only  as  an  heir  of  the 
temporal  Canaan,  greater  if  you  ascribe 
to  him  acquaintance  with  the  mercies 
of  redemption.  "Oh,  that  thou  wouldest 
bless  me  indeed  !"  Lay  the  emphasis 
on  that  word  "  indeed."  Many  things 
pass  for  blessings  which  are  not;  to  as 
many  more  we  deny,  though  we  ought 
to  give  the  character.  There  is  a  bless- 
ing in  appearance  which  is  not  also  a 
blessing  in  reality  ;  and  conversely,  the 
reality  may  exist  where  the  appearance 
is  wanting.  The  man  in  prosperity  ap- 
pears to  have,  the  man  in  adversity  to 
be  without  a  blessing — yet  how  often 
does  God  bless  by  withholding  and  with- 
drawing! more  frequently,  it  may  be, 
than  by  giving  and  continuing.  There- 
fore, "  Oh,  that  thou  wouldest  bless  me 
indeed."  Let  me  not  have  what  looks 
like  blessing,  and  perhaps  is  not,  but 
what  is  blessing,  however  unlike  it  may 
appear.  Let  it  come  under  any  form, 
disappointment,  tribulation,  persecution, 
only  "  bless  me  indeed  !  "  bless  me, 
though  it  be  with  the  rod.  I  will  not 
prescribe  the  nature  of  the  dealing;  deal 
with  me  as  Thou  wilt,  with  the  blow  or 
with  the  balm,  only  "  bless  me  indeed  !" 

And     Jabez    goes    on,    "  That    thou 


131 


wouldest  enlarge  my  coast."  He  pro- 
bably speaks  as  one  who  had  to  win 
from  the  enemy  his  portion  of  the  pro- 
mised land.  He  knew  that,  as  the  Lord 
said  to  Joshua,  "  There  remained  yet 
very  much  land  to  be  possessed:"  it 
was  not  then  necessarily  as  a  man  de- 
sirous of  securing  to  himself  a  broader 
inheritance,  it  may  have  been  as  one 
who  felt  jealous  that  the  idolater  should 
still  defile  what  God  had  Bet  apart  for 
his  people,  that  he  entreated  the  en- 
largement of  his  coast.  And  a  christian 
may  use  the  same  prayer ;  he,  too,  has 
to  ask  that  his  coast  may  be  enlarged. 
Who  amongst  us  has  yet  taken  posses- 
sion of  one  half  the  territory  assigned 
him  by  God  ]  Of  course  we  are  not 
speaking  of  the  inheritance  that  is  above, 
of  share  in  the  land  whereof  Canaan  was 
the  type,  and  which  we  cannot  enter 
but  by  dying.  But  there  is  a  present  in- 
heritance, "  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
with  honey,"  which  is  ours  in  virtue  of 
adoption  into  the  family  of  God,  but 
much  of  which  we  allow  to  remain  un- 
possessed, through  deficiency  in  dili- 
gence or  in  faith.  Our  privileges  as 
christians,  as  members  of  an  apostolical 
church,  as  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven, how  are  these  practically  under- 
valued, how  little  are  they  realized,  how 
sluggishly  appropriated  !  We  remain 
— alas,  we  are  contented  to  remain — in 
suspense  as  to  our  spiritual  condition,  in 
the  enjoyment  of  but  a  fraction  of  the 
ministrations  appointed  by  the  church, 
in  low  attainments,  contracted  views, 
and  half  performed  duties.  What  dis- 
tricts of  unpossessed  territory  are  there 
in  the  Bible  !  how  much  of  that  blessed 
book  has  been  comparatively  unexamin- 
ed by  us  !  We  have  our  favorite  parts, 
and  give  only  an  occasional  and  cursory 
notice  to  the  rest.  How  little  practical 
use  do  we  make  of  God's  promises  ! 
how  slow  is  our  progress  in  that  humble- 
ness of  mind,  that  strength  of  faith,  and 
that  holiness  of  life,  which  are  as  much 
a  present  reward  as  an  evidence  of  fit- 
ness for  the  society  of  heaven  !  What 
need  then  for  the  prayer,  "Oh  that  thou 
wouldest  enlarge  my  coast  !  "  I  would 
not  be  circumscribed  in  spiritual  things. 
I  would  not  live  always  within  these 
narrow  bounds.  There  are  bright  and 
glorious  tracts  beyond.  I  would  know 
more  of  God,  more  of  Christ,  more  of 
myself.     I  cannot  be  content  to  remain 


as  I  am,  whilst  there  is  so  much  to  do, 
so  much  to  learn,  so  much  to  enjoy. 
Oh  for  an  enlargement  of  coast,  that  I 
may  have  a  broader  domain  of  christian 
privilege,  more  eminences  from  which 
to  catch  glimpses  of  the  fair  rich  land 
hereafter  to  be  reached,  and  wider  sphere 
in  which  to  glorify  God  by  devoting 
myself  to  his  service.  It  is  a  righteous 
covetousness,  this  for  an  enlargement  of 
coast ;  for  he  has  done  little,  we  might 
almost  say  nothing,  in  religion,  who  can 
be  content  with  what  he  has  done.  It  is 
a  holy  ambition,  this  which  pants  for  an 
ampler  territory.  But  are  we  only  to 
pray"?  are  we  not  also  to  struggle,  for  the 
enlargement  of  our  coasts  1  Indeed  we 
are:  observe  how  Jabez  proceeds,  "And 
that  thine  hand  might  be  with  me."  He 
represents  himself  as  arming  for  the  en- 
largement of  his  coast,  but  as  knowing 
all  the  while  that  "  the  battle  is  the 
Lord's."  Be  it  thus  with  ourselves ;  we 
will  pray  that,  during  the  coming  year, 
our  coasts  may  be  enlarged ;  oh  for 
more  of  those  deep  havens  where  the 
soul  may  anchor  in  still  waters  of  com- 
fort !  oh  for  a  longer  stretch  of  those 
sunny  shores  whereon  the  tree  of  life 
grows,  and  where  angel  visitants  seem 
often  to  alight !  But,  in  order  to  this 
enlargement,  let  us  give  ourselves  to 
closer  study  of  the  word,  to  a  more 
diligent  use  of  the  ordinances  of  the 
church,  and  to  harder  struggle  with  the 
flesh.  Only  let  all  be  done  with  the 
practical  consciousness  that  "  except  the 
Lord  build  the  house,  their  labor  is  but 
lost  that  build  it."  This  will  be  to  arm 
ourselves,  like  Jabez,  for  the  war,  but, 
like  Jabez,  to  expect  success  only  so 
far  as  God's  hand  shall  be  with  us. 

There  is  one  more  petition  in  the 
prayer  of  him  who  named  with  a  dark 
and  inauspicious  name,  yet  grew  to  be 
"  more  honorable  than  his  brethren." 
"  That  thou  wouldest  keep  me  from  evil 
that  it  may  not  grieve  me."  It  is  not 
an  entreaty  for  actual  exemption  from 
evil — it  were  no  pious  wish  to  have  no 
evil  whatsoever  in  our  portion  :  "  Shall 
we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God, 
and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  1  "  Jabez 
prayed  not  for  the  being  kept  from  evil, 
but  kept  from  the  being  grieved  by  evil. 
And  there  is  a  vast  difference  between  the 
being  visited  by  evil,  and  grieved  by  evil. 
He  is  grieved  by  evil,  who  does  not  re- 
ceive it  meekly  and  submissively,  as  the 


132 


chastisement  of  his  heavenly  Father. 
He  is  grieved  by  evil,  whom  evil  injures, 
in  place  of  benefits — which  latter  is 
always  God's  purpose  in  his  permission 
or  appointment.  He  is  grieved  by  evil, 
whom  it  drives  into  sin,  and  to  whom, 
therefore,  it  furnishes  cause  of  bitter  re- 
pentance. 

You  see,  then,  that  Jabez  showed 
great  spiritual  discernment  in  casting 
his  prayer  into  this  particular  form.  We 
too  should  pray,  not  absolutely  that  God 
would  keep  us  from  evil,  but  that  he 
would  so  keep  it  from  us,  or  us  from  it, 
that  it  may  not  grieve  us.  The  coming 
year  can  hardly  fail  to  bring  with  it  its 
portion  of  trouble.  There  are  individuals 
here  who  will  have  much  to  endure, 
whether  in  person,  or  family,  or  sub- 
stance. It  is  scarcely  assuming  the  place 
of  the  prophet,  if  I  say  that  I  see  the 
funeral  procession,  moving  from  some 
of  your  doors,  and  sorrow,  under  one 
shape  or  another,  breaking  like  an  armed 
man  into  many  of  your  households.  But 
if  it  were  too  much  to  hope  that  evil 
may  not  come,  it  is  not  too  much  to  pray 
that  evil  may  not  grieve.  Ah,  if  we 
knew  approaching  events,  we  should, 
perhaps,  be  ready  to  give  the  name 
Jabez  to  the  year  which  has  this  day 
been  born.  And  yet  may  this  Jabez  be 
more  honorable  than  his  brethren,  a  year 
of  enlargement  of  our  coasts,  of  greater 
acquisition  in  spiritual  things,  of  growth 
in  grace,  of  closer  conformity  to  the 
image  of  Christ.  It  is  not  the  tribula- 
tion with  which  its  days  may  be  charged, 
which  can  prevent  such  result ;  nay, 
rather,  it  may  only  advance  it.  And  it 
shall  be  this,  if  we  but  strive  to  cultivate 
that  submissiveness  of  spirit,  that  firm 
confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  the  Lord,  that  disposition  to  count 
nothing  really  injurious  but  what  injures 
the  soul,  yea,  every  thing  profitable  from 
which  the  soul  may  gain  good,  which 
may  all  be  distinctly  traced  in  the  simple, 
comprehensive  petition,  "  Oh  that  tiiou 
wouldest  keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may 
not  grieve  me." 

Now  we  have  thus  endeavored  to  in- 
terweave with  our  subject-matter  of  dis- 
course such  reflections  and  observations 
as  might  be  specially  appropriate  to  a 
New  Year's  day.  But  there  is  one 
thing  of  which  I  had  almost  lost  sight. 
I  have  to  ask  you  for  a  New  Year's  day 
present,  not  indeed  for  myself,  which  I 


might  hesitate  to  do,  but  for  the  poor, 
the  sick,  and  the  afflicted,  in  whose 
name  I  may  beg,  and  have  nothing  to 
blush  at,  unless  it  were  a  refusal.  Of 
all  days  in  the  year,  this  is  peculiarly  a 
day  for  "sending  portions"  to  the  dis- 
tressed, sending  them  as  a  thank-offering 
for  the  many  mercies  with  which  the 
past  year  has  been  marked.  And  our 
long-established  and  long-tried  District 
Society  for  visiting  and  relieving  the 
poor  of  the  neighborhood,  makes  its 
annual  appeal  to  you  for  the  means  of 
carrying  on  its  benevolent  work.  It 
appeals  to  the  regular  congregation,  as 
to  those  whose  engine  and  instiument  it 
especially  is  :  it  appeals  also  to  strang- 
ers ;  for  they  who  come  hither  to  join 
in  our  worship,  may  with  all  justice  be 
asked  to  assist  us  in  our  charities.  I 
need  not  dwell  on  the  excellences  of 
this  society.  I  shall  venture  to  say, 
that,  through  the  kindness  and  zeal  of 
our  visiters,  whom  we  can  never  suffi- 
ciently thank,  but  whom  God  will  re- 
ward— for  theirs  is  the  fine  christian 
benevolence,  the  benevolence  which 
gives  time,  the  benevolence  which  gives 
labor,  the  benevolence  which  seeks  no 
showy  stage,  no  public  scene,  but  is 
content  to  ply,  patient  and  unobserved, 
in  the  hovels  of  poverty  and  at  the  bed- 
side of  sickness;  I  shall  venture  to  say, 
that,  through  the  kindness  of  these  visit- 
ers, a  vast  deal  is  daily  done  towards 
alleviating  sorrow,  lightening  distress, 
and  bringing  the  pastor  into  contact 
with  the  sick  and  the  erring  of  his  flock. 
It  were  very  easy  to  sketch  many  pic- 
tures which  might  incline  you  to  be 
even  more  than  commonly  liberal  in 
your  New  Year's  day  gift.  But  I  shall 
attempt  only  one,  and  furnish  nothing 
but  the  briefest  outline  even  of  that. 
There  is  a  mother  in  yonder  wretched 
and  desolate  room,  who  has  but  lately 
given  birth  to  a  boy ;  and  there  is  no 
father  to  welcome  him,  for,  only  a  few 
weeks  back,  half  broken-hearted,  she 
laid  her  husband  in  the  grave.  What 
shall  she  call  that  boy,  thus  born  to  her 
in  the  midst  of  wretchedness  and  an- 
guish 1  Oh,  by  no  cheerful  name.  She 
feels,  as  she  bends  over  him,  as  if  he 
were  indeed  the  child  of  sorrow :  so 
dreary  is  her  state,  so  friendless,  that, 
were  it  not  for  the  strivings  of  that 
sweet  and  sacred  thing,  a  mother's  fond- 
ness for  her  babe,  she  could  almost  wish 


him  with  his  father  in  the  grave,  that  he 
might  not  have  to  share  her  utter  desti- 
tution. Left  to  herself,  she  could  but, 
like  the  Jewish  mother,  call  his  name 
Jabez,  saying,  "  Because  I  bare  him 
with  sorrow."  But  she  is  not  left  to 
herself:  a  kind  voice  bids  her  be  of  good 
cheer ;  a  friendly  hand  brings  her  nour- 
ishment :  she  looks  smilingly  on  her 
child,  for  she  has  been  suddenly  made 
to  hear,  and  to  taste  of  the  loving-kind- 
ness of  God,  "  the  husband  of  the  widow, 
and  the  father  of  the  fatherless."  Oh, 
what  a  change  has  passed  over  that 
lonely  and  wretched  apartment;  you 
will   not   ask  through  what  instrumen-  j 


EZ-  133 

tality,  but  you  will  thank  God  that  such 
an  instrumentality  is  in  active  operation 
around  you  ;  you  will  do  your  best  to 
keep  up  its  efficiency.  And  as  that 
suffering  woman  no  longer  thinks  of 
calling  her  child  Jabez,  that  is,  Sorrow- 
ful, but  rather  wishes  some  title  expres- 
sive of  thanksgiving  and  hopefulness  ; 
you  will  so  share  her  gladness  as  to  feel 
how  appropriately  the  organ's  solemn 
swell  now  summons  you  to  join  in  the 
doxology : 

"  Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below ; 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  heavenly  host, 
Praise  Father,  Son.  and  Holy  Ghost." 


SERMONS 


ON  CERTAIN  OF  Till: 


LESS  PROMINENT  FACTS  AND  REFERENCES  IN  SACRED  STORY. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


SERMON   I 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


And  there  followed  him  a  certain  youn?  man,  having  a  linen  cloth  cast  about  his  naked  body;  ami  the  yoms 
laid  hold  on  hira  :  and  he  left  the  linen  cloth,  and  fled  from  them  naked." — St.  JI.uik,  jciv.  51,  52. 


St.  Mark  is  the  only  Evangelist  who 
mentions  this  occurrence :  we  cannot, 
therefore,  as  we  often  may,  by  a  com- 
parison of  accounts,  obtain  a  fuller  nar- 
rative of  facts,  and  thereby  settle  with 
more  precision  what  particular  truths 
may  have  been  illustrated  or  enforced. 
But  if  we  have  only  this  single  account, 
it  goes  sufficiently  into  detail  to  afford 
much  scope  for  thought  and  inquiry ; 
the  facts  would  not  have  been  related 
at  all,  and  much  less  with  such  careful 
accuracy,  had  they  not  been  facts  which 
it  was  important  for  us  to  know;  and 
they  would  have  been  related,  we  may 
venture  to  believe,  more  than  once,  had 
not  their  single  statement  sufficed  for 
information  and  instruction. 

That  it  was  a  young  man,  though  no 
clue  is  given  to  his  name  or  condition ; 
that  he  followed  Christ,  when  his  pro- 
fessed disciples  forsook  him  and  iled  ; 
that  he  was  clad  in  a  linen  cloth;  that 
his  linen  cloth  was  his  only  garment; 
that  he  was  seized  by  the  young  men 
who  were  hurrying  Jesus  to  the  high 
priest;  that,  being  thus  seized,  he  strug- 


gled away,  but  lefi  his  garment  behind — 
these  facts  are  all  given  with  evident 
carefulness  of  detail,  the  Evangelist  ap- 
pearing anxious  that  we  should  not  pasa 
over  the  occurrence  as  though  it  were 
unimportant,  but  should  pause  and  con- 
sider why  it  was  permitted  to  happen, 
or  why,  at  least,  it  was  directed  to  be 
recorded. 

Whatever  is  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  apprehension,  trial,  and  cruci- 
fixion of  our  blessed  Redeemer,  ought 
to  possess  for  us  a  special  interest  ;  an 
incident  which  we  might  have  passed 
over  as  of  no  great  importance,  had  it 
not  been  associated  with  such  awful 
transactions,  acquires  solemnity,  and  de- 
mands attention,  when  found  in  thai  se- 
ries of  events^  of  which  it  is  haul  to  say 
whether  it  should  mosl  move  our  awe 
or  our  gratitude1. 

We  cannot,  therefore,  content  our- 
selves with  a  brief  or  cursory  notice  of 
the  circumstances  related  in  our  text. 
We  rather  regard  it  as  intended  to  be 
made  the  subject  of  patient  and  prayer- 
ful meditation,  and  as  fraught  with  deep 


136 


THE  YOCXG  MAIV   IS  THE  I.IXEX  CLOTH. 


ami    mystic 


■M\c: 


unermce. 


Th 


though  given,  as  we  have  seen,  with 
considerable  detail,  are  abruptly  intro- 
duced, and  as  abruptly  dismissed.  The 
young  man  is  brought  suddenly  on  the 
scene:  we  arc  not  informed  whether  he 
was  a  disciple  of  Christ ;  there  is  no 
mention  of  his  motive  in  following  Christ 
at  such  a  moment  and  in  such  a  dress; 
so  soon  as  he  has  escaped  from  the 
crowd,  not  a  word  is  added  which  might 
assist  us  in  conjecturing  why  the  Evan- 
gelist interrupted  the  course  of  bis  nar- 
rative, to  insert  what  seems  to  have  so 
little  to  do  with  the  tragic  story  of  our 
Lord's  closing  scene. 

This  very  abruptness,  this  very  mys- 
teriousness,  should  obtain  for  the  facts 
our  serious  attention.  We  ought  to  be 
convinced  that  what  is  so  strangely  in- 
troduced was  designed  to  arrest  our 
thoughts,  and  to  reward  the  study  of 
which  we  might  make  it  the  subject. 
Let.  lis  then,  without  further  preface, 
apply  ourselves  to  the  examination  of 
the  facts  which  St.  Mark  sets  before  us 
in  the  words  of  our  text.  As  our  blessed 
Redeemer  is  being  hurried  from  Geth- 
semane  to  the  palace  of  the  high  priest, 
let  us  join  ourselves  to  the  crowd,  and 
endeavor  to  ascertain  what  there  was  to 
deserve  the  being  specially  noted  by  the 
sacred  historian,  in  that  Christ  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  young  man,  with  a  linen 
cloth  cast  about  his  naked  body;  that 
this  young  man  was  seized  on  by  the 
rabble;  and  that  "he  left  the  linen  cloth 
and  fled  from  them  naked." 

Now  we  will  first  glance  at  the  more 
ordinary  comment  which  is  put  on  the 
facts,  though  with  no  puipose  of  recom- 
mending it  as  in  any  sense  satisfactory, 
but  rather  that  we  may  show  it  to  be 
vague  and  inadequate.  You  are  to  ob- 
serve the  point  of  time  at  which  the  facts 
now  before  us  occurred.  Our  Lord  bad 
just  passed  through  his  fearful  agony  in 
the  garden,  when  his  sweat  had  been,  as 
it  were,  great  drops  of  blood,  and  thrice 
had  He  entreated,  that,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, the  cup  might  pass  from  Him.  On 
his  returning  a  third  time  to  his  disci- 
ples, who,  notwithstanding  the  awful- 
ness  of  the  hour,  had  been  overcome 
with  sleep,  He  was  met  by  Judas,  one 
of  the  twelve,  who  had  come  accompa- 
nied by  a  great  multitude  with  swords 
and  staves  to  seize  Him,  and  carry  Him 
before  the  high  priest.    Gethsemane  was 


at  the  foot  of  the  Mount  of  Olives ;  when, 
therefore,  Judas  and  his  crew  had  seized 
upon  Christ,  they  had  to  pass  through 
the  suburb's  of  the  city,  where  any  tu- 
mult in  the  dead  of  the  night  may  have 
been  most  unusual,  in  order  to  reach  the 
high  priest's  palace.  And  the  common 
supposition  is,  that  the  young  man,  wa- 
kened by  the  strange  disturbance  in  the 
street,  had  thrown  a  sheet  round  him, 
as  the  first  thing  which  came  to  hand; 
that  lie  had  then  rushed  down  to  inquire 
the  cause  of  the  uproar;  and  that,  hear- 
ing of  the  apprehension  of  Jesus,  whom 
he  must  have  known  by  report,  or  to 
whom  he  may  have  been  secretly  at- 
tached, he  determined  to  follow,  whe- 
ther from  curiosity  or  a  better  motive, 
that  he  might  see  how  the  matter  would 
end. 

But  if  this  were  all,  it  would  really  be 
hard  to  say  for  what  purpose,  or  with 
what  view,  the  facts  have  been  recorded, 
Admitting  that  all  Scripture  has  been 
written  for  our  learning,  it  might  not  be 
easy  to  understand  what  pai'tieular  les- 
sons were  conveyed  through  the  men- 
tion of  a  young  man  who  had  been 
roused  from  his  sleep  by  a  noise  in  the 
street,  who  had  not  waited  to  dress  him- 
self before  hurrying  to  find  out  what 
occasioned  the  tumult,  and  who  was 
handled  somewhat  roughly  by  the  crowd 
with  whom  he  had  mixed  in  so  strange 
an  attire.  To  say  nothing  of  the  many 
improbabilities  in  the  story  as  thus  ex- 
plained, for  surely  it  was  in  the  highest 
degree  improbable  that  any  one  would 
have  descended  into  the  street  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  with  nothing  but  a 
sheet  thrown  round  him;  or,  at  all 
events,  that,  if  he  had  come  to  the  door 
in  this  dress,  he  would  have  thought  of 
following  the  crowd  into  the  city  with- 
out waiting  to  put  on  some  garment ; — 
but  passing  by  these  improbabilities, 
and  allowing  that  we  have  nothing  but 
the  account  of  a  young  man  who  did  a 
strange  and  foolish  thing,  what  are  we 
the  better  for  the  narrative  1  What 
light  does  it  throw  on  the  concluding 
scenes  of  Christ's  life  I  What  informa- 
tion, or  what  instruction,  does  it  furnish 
us  in  any  way  in  keeping  with  the  tre- 
mendous occurrences  which  the  Evan- 
gelisl  had  taken  in  hand  to  narrate? 

The  commentators,  indeed,  remark 
that  the  treatment  which  the  young  man 
received,  shows  that  the  whole  transac- 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


137 


tion  was  conducted  with  extreme  vio-  I 
lenee,  and  threfore  serves  to  make  it  the 
mire  memorable  that  the  Apostles  had 
all  been  suffered  to  escape,  and  the  more 
evident  that  Christ  had  secretly  and 
powerfully  influenced  the  minds  of  the 
tierce  rabble  by  whom  He  had  been 
seized.  But  we  do  not  see  that  it  can 
fairly  be  said,  on  the  explanation  just 
given  i)l'  the  occurrence  in  question,  that 
the  crowd  treated  the  young  man  with 
any  great  violence :  the  best-humored 
mob  might  lay  hold  of  a  person  who 
joined  them  in  so  strange  an  attire;  and 
his  own  fear,  rather  than  their  fury,  may 
have  occasioned  his  fleeing  away,  and 
leaving  his  garment  behind.  Had  they 
been  set  on  doing  him  a  mischief,  they 
might  easily  have  prevented  his  escape. 
Hence  the  common  explanation  of  the 
incidents  before  us,  resolving  them  into 
a  mere  working  of  curiosity  on  the  part 
of  the  young  man,  and  of  ill-nature  on 
that  of  the  crowd,  can  hardly  be  pro- 
nounced other  than  utterly  unsatisfac- 
tory. It  leaves  the  facts  themselves 
most  improbable,  and  the  reasons  for 
their  having  been  related  quite  insuffi- 
cient ;  so  that  you  must,  we  think,  be 
ready  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  good 
ground  for  our  searching  for  some  deeper 
interpretation,  for  our  concluding  that 
the  Evangelist  designed  to  convey  some 
more  important  intimations  than  have 
yet  been  derived,  when  he  brought  so 
strangely  into  his  story  this  unknown 
young  man,  and  as  strangely  dismissed 
him — as  though  a  spectre  had  suddenly 
risen  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  and  then 
had  as  suddenly  disappeared. 

But  now  let  us  examine  more  atten- 
tively what  the  dress  was  which  this 
young  man  wore;  we  maybe  thereby 
enabled  to  form  a  more  correct  opinion 
as  to  the  occurrences  under  review. 
You  often  meet  with  the  mention  of 
linen  in  the  New  Testament;  but  you 
are  not  to  think  that,  whenever  the  word 
occurs  in  English,  the  same  word  occurs 
in  the  Greek.  For  example,  you  read 
of  the  rich  man  in  the  parable,  that  he 
was  "clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen." 
You  read  also,  in  the  Book  of  Revela- 
tion, that  it  was  granted  unto  the  Lamb's 
wife,  "that  she  should  be  arrayed  in 
fine  linen,  clean  and  white,  for  the  fine 
linen  is  the  righteousness  of  saints." 
But  the  linen  spoken  of  in  these  cases 
is  defined  in .  the  original  by  a  totally 


different  word  from  that  used  in  our 
text.  Indeed,  the  word  used  in  our 
text  occurs  but  seldom  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, and,  what  is  very  remarkable, 
in  every  other  place  in  which  it  occurs, 
it  relates  to  the  garment  which  it  was 
then  customary  to  wrap  round  the  dead. 
"When  Joseph  had  taken  the  body,  he 
wrapped  it  in  a  clean  linen  cloth;" — in 
a  clean  sindon,  for  that  is  the  word, — 
or,  as  we  should  probably  have  said,  in 
a  clean  shroud.  Thus  again,  it  is  said 
by  St.  Mark,  in  regard  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea,  and  the  body  of  our  Lord. 
"he  bought  fine  linen,  and  took  him 
down,  and  wrapped  him  in  the  linen." 
Here  the  use  of  the  words  "fine  linen" 
at  one  moment,  and  immediately  after- 
wards of  the  single  word  "linen,"  might 
lead  you  to  suppose  a  difference  in  the 
original  expressions.  But  there  is  no 
difference.  "  He  bought  the  sindon. 
and  took  him  down,  and  wrapped  him 
in  the  sindon."  St.  Luke  has  the  same 
word  in  reference  to  the  same  circum- 
stance. "  He  took  it  down,  wrapped  it 
in  linen,  and  laid  it  in  a  sepulchre  that 
was  hewn  in  stone."  But  we  believe 
there  is  no  other  place  in  which  the 
word  occurs  in  the  Greek  Testament ; 
so  that,  excepting  the  instance  of  our 
text,  the  Evangelists  use  the  word  to 
express  only  the  particular  garment  in 
which  it  was  then  usual  to  enfold  the 
bodies  of  the  dead. 

Now  we  do  not  wish  you  to  conclude 
from  this,  that  the  word  was  never  em- 
ployed but  of  the  raiment  of  the  dead — 
for  such  was  not  the  fact;  but  that  it 
was  employed  to  denote  a  particular 
kind  of  garment,  and  would  not  be  used 
of  any  covering  which  a  man  might 
throw  over  him,  just  because  the  cover- 
ing happened  to  be  of  linen.  If  a  man, 
starting  from  his  sleep,  had  cast  a  sheet 
round  him,  he  would  not  on  that  account 
have  been  said  to  have  been  clad  in  the 
sindon.  In  fact,  the  sindon — and  it 
probably  took  its  name  from  the  city  of 
Sidon,  the  Sidonians  having  invented  the 
art  of  weaving  this  kind  of  clothing — 
was  a  cloak,  made  of  linen,  which  was 
frequently  worn  in  Jerusalem,  and  es- 
pecially in  summer.  But  besides  serving 
as  a  covering  to  the  body,  the  sindon 
was  turned  to  a  religious  account.  It 
was  to  this  cloak  that  the  scrupulous 
observers  of  the  law  were  accustomed 
to  fasten   those  fringes  of  which   you 


138 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


read  in  the  Book  of  Numbers.  "Speak 
unto  the  children  of  Israel,  and  bid  them 
that  they  make  them  fringes  in  the  bor- 
ders of  their  garments  throughout  their 
generations,  and  that  they  put  upon  the 
fringe  of  the  borders  a  ribband  of  blue." 
With  this  sindon  also  it  was  that  the 
Jews  commonly  covered  their  heads 
when  they  prayed.  Hence,  whilst  any 
one  might  wear  the  sindon,  merely  as 
an  ordinary  garment,  others  might  wear 
it  by  way  of  religious  distinction;  that 
is,  they  might  wear  it  in  such  a  manner, 
or  with  such  peculiarity,  as  to  make  it 
indicative  of  special  strictness,  of  a  rigid 
adherence  to  the  law  of  God,  or  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  elders. 

And  this  latter  would  appear  to  have 
been  the  case  with  the  young  man  of 
whom  we  read  in  our  text.  It  is  ex- 
pressly noted  by  the  Evangelist,  that 
this  young  man  had  the  sindon  "cast 
about  his  naked  body."  He  had  noth- 
ing on  except  the  sindon.  And  this 
was  not  usual.  The  sindon  was  com- 
monly used  for  an  outer  garment — it 
was  worn,  that  is,  over  some  other.  But 
there  were  many  amongst  the  Jews  who 
affected  great  austerity,  devotees  who 
attracted  attention  by  extreme  self-de- 
nial in  diet  and  dress.  Josephus  de- 
scribes himself  as  having  spent  much  of 
his  youth  in  the  austerities  enjoined  by 
different  sects,  and  mentions  his  living 
for  three  years  in  the  wilderness  with 
an  enthusiast,  who  would  wear  no  gar- 
ment but  what  was  made  of  the  leaves 
or  bark  of  trees,  and  would  eat  no  food 
but  what  grew  of  its  own  accord.  What 
then  seems  more  likely,  if  you  throw 
together  the  several  considerations  thus 
advanced,  than  that  the  young  man  who 
followed  Christ  was  a  devotee,  a  person 
that  assumed  a  peculiar  sanct  ty  of  de- 
portment, and  who,  therefore,  wore  only 
the  sindon,  whilst  others  used  a  double 
gaiment,  that  he  might  show  greater 
contempt  for  the  body,  and  more  rigor- 
ous habits  of  self-mortification? 

There  is  no  reason  for  supposing  him 
to  have  been  a  disciple  of  Christ;  in  all 
probability  he  was  not;  but  he  was  one 
of  those  Jews  who  practised  great  aus- 
terities, and  whose  dress  was  meant  to 
indicate  a  claim  or  pretension  to  extra- 
ordinary holiness  of  life.  Neither  ip„it 
to  be  concluded  that  he  had  jtv-t  been 
roused  from  his  sleep,  and  had  hurried 
down  as  one  easrer  to  know  the  cause 


|  of  the  tumult;  it  is  as  likely  that  he  may 
have  been  with  the  crowd  from  the  first; 
yea,  he  may  have  been  as  inveterate  as 
any  of  the  rest  against  Christ:  for  he 
may  have  been  a  hypocrite  as  well  as  a 
devotee;  and  the  pretender  to  great 
holiness  will  be  sure  to  hate  the  actual 
possessor. 

But,  upon  this  supposition,  what  are 
we  to  say  to  the  conduct  of  the  multi- 
tude 1  why  did  the  mob  fall  on  the  young 
man,  and  handle  him  so  roughly?  We 
gave,  as  a  great  reason  for  rejecting  the 
ordinary  explanation  of  the  narrative, 
that  it  threw  no  light  on  the  series  of 
events  which  the  Evangelist  had  taken 
in  hand  to  relate,  that  it  left  us  with  no 
sufficient  account  why  he  interrupted 
the  sad  tale  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ. 
But  we  may  make  a  very  different  state- 
ment in  regard  to  the  present  supposi- 
tion, which  sets  before  us  the  young 
man  as  a  religious  devotee,  and  as  known 
to  be  such  by  the  garment  which  he 
wore.  From  the  manner  in  which  the 
multitude  treated  the  assumption  or  ap- 
pearance of  extraordinary  holiness,  we 
may  learn  something  of  the  temper  by 
which  they  were  actuated,  and  thus  be 
guided  to  right  conclusions  in  regard  to 
their  hatred  of  Christ. 

It  was,  we  believe,  a  religious  hatred, 
a  hatred,  we  mean,  on  religious  grounds, 
or  on  account  of  religion,  which  moved 
the  great  body  of  the  Jews  against  the 
blessed  Redeemer.  It  is  easy;o  speak 
of  the  political  feeling,  of  the  disap- 
pointment experienced  when  Christ 
gave  them  no  hope  of  setting  up  a  tem- 
poral kingdom,  and  advancing  them  to 
sovereignty  over  their  haughty  oppres- 
sors. And  no  doubt  this  political  feel- 
ing had  its  play  ;  in  many  there  may 
have  been  a  dogged  res  ilution,  that  they 
would  rather  have  no  Messiah  than  one 
not  likely  to  fulfil  their  dream  of  na- 
tional supremacy.  For  it  would  seem, 
though  it  be  an  awful  thing  to  say,  that 
Christ  was  rejected  by  many,  not  in 
disbelief  of  his  being  the  Messiah,  but 
in  spite  of  a  thorough  conviction  that 
He  was.  The  parable  of  the  wicked 
husbandmen  implies  as  much  as  this. 
"  When  the  husbandman  saw  the  son, 
they  said  among  themselves,  This  is  the 
heir  :  come,  let  us  kill  him,  and  let  us 
seize  on  his  inheritance."  They  dis- 
tinctly knew  the  son,  you  observe  ;  they 
do  not  act  under  any  mistake,  any  false 


THE  YOUNG   MAX  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


139 


impression,  as  to  his  person  ;  and  they 
deliberately  proceed  to  kill  him,  be- 
cause he  is  the  son,  because  he  is  the 
heir,  and,  as  such,  in  the  way  of  their 
covetous  or  ambitious  designs.  But  in 
regard  of  the  great  mass  of  the  Jews, 
it  is  hardly  to  be  thought  that  it  was  the 
feeling  of  political  disappointment  which 
made  them  so  bitter  and  malignant 
against  Christ.  On  mere  political 
grounds  our  Lord,  after  all,  was  such  a 
leader  as  might  have  well  suited  the 
people.  He  could  heal  all  their  dis- 
eases, He  could  sustain  them  in  ■  the 
wilderness  ;  He  had  the  mastery  over 
evil  spirits  ;  and  their  natural  impulse 
must  have  been,  not  to  reject  a  leader 
thus  endowed,  because  He  showed  dis- 
inclination to  assuming  the  deportment 
of  a  king,  but  rather  to  make  Him  a 
king  in  spite  of  Himself,  and  then  see 
whether  He  would  not  wield  his  powers 
in  advancing  them  to  greatness. 

But  the  galling  thing,  the  thing  most 
keenly  felt  by  all  classes  of  the  Jews, 
was  the  holiness  of  our  Lord  :  He  did 
not  suit  them  as  a  leader,  because  He 
would  make  no  truce  with  their  evil 
passions,  and  allow  no  indulgence  to 
their  lusts.  Had  He  made  greater  al- 
lowance for  human  frailty,  had  He  not 
so  expanded  the  morality  of  the  law  as 
to  make  it  denounce  the  adultery  of  a 
look,  aud  the  murder  of  a  thought, 
many,  both  in  earlier  days  and  in  later, 
would  have  given  Him  their  adherence, 
and  have  become  his  disciples.  The 
main  cause  of  irritation  and  dislike  has 
all  along  been  the  same;  it  is  in  active 
play  now,  and  came  into  play  so  soon 
as  it  was  seen  that  Christ  displayed,  and 
demanded,  the  strictest  purity  of  action, 
and  word,  and  thought ;  if  Christianity 
would  but  be  a  little  more  indulgent  to 
men's  vices,  it  would  quickly  carry  their 
votes. 

But  if  it  were  a  dislike  of  Christ,  as 
an  uncompromising  teacher  of  holiness, 
which  chiefly  moved,  or  actuated  the 
multitude,  we  may  naturally  look  to  find 
some  exhibition  of  the  fact  in  their  con- 
duct ;  not  indeed,  any  open  declaration 
— for  the  worst  will  hardly  confess  that 
it  is  goodness  which  they  hate — but 
some  ebullition  of  temper,  which  shall 
give  the  same  witness,  though  not 
equally  direct. 

And  this  we  have  in  the  narrative  of 
our  text.     A  young  man  is  seen  in  the 


crowd,  whose  dress  lays  claim  to  spe- 
cial strictness  and  sanctity  of  life.  Then 
forthwith  breaks  out  the  real  feeling  of 
the  crowd.  They  seize  the  occasion  of 
giving  vent  to  that  bitter  animosity  at 
holiness,  which  was  really,  if  not  con- 
fessedly, the  producing  cause  of  their 
persecution  of  Jesus.  They  jostle  this 
young  man  ;  they  lay  hold  on  him  ;  they 
strip  him  of  the  garment  which  passed 
as  a  sign  of  devoted ness  to  religion ; 
and  thus  they  plainly  showed  by  what 
spirit  they  were  actuated,  or  put  be- 
yond doubt  the  motives  which  chiefly 
urged  them  to  their  murderous  design. 
Thirsting  for  Christ's  blood,  because 
He  had  reproved  vice,  and  required 
righteousness,  they  could  not  tolerate 
amongst  them  even  the  appearance  of 
superior  holiness.  The  young  man  pre- 
sented that  appearance,  and  therefore 
they  turned  upon  him,  as  hounds  upon 
their  prey,  and  forced  him  to  escape 
naked  for  his  life. 

And  we  cannot  forbear  from  pointing 
out  to  you  how  naturally,  on  this  suppo- 
J  sition,  each  part  of  St.  Mark's  narrative 
follows  on  the  other.  On  being  seized 
by  the  multitude,  "  Jesus  answered  and 
said  unto  them,  Are  ye  come  out  as 
against  a  thief,  with  swords  and  staves, 
to  take  me  1  I  was  daily  with  you  in 
the  temple  teaching,  and  ye  took  me 
not ;  but  the  Scripture  must  be  fulfill- 
ed." What  effect  was  this  reference  to 
his  teaching  likely  to  produce  upon  the 
multitude  1  That  teaching  had  had  for 
its  main  object  the  inculcation  of  right- 
eousness of  life,  the  abandonment  of 
every  form  and  working  of  iniquity. 
And  on  this  account,  as  we  now  sup- 
pose, the  teaching  had  been  distasteful, 
and  had  excited  the  animosity  of  the 
people.  Hence  an  allusion  to  the  teach- 
ing was  likely  to  irritate  the  mob  ;  and 
we  may  believe  them  to  have  been  all 
the  more  furious,  when  Christ  had  re- 
minded them  of  his  discourses  in  the 
temple.  Then  follow  the  words,  "  And 
they  all  forsook  him  and  fled."  The 
disciples,  seeing  the  irritated  state  of 
the  rabble,  were  afraid  to  remain  any 
longer  near  their  master,  and  betook 
themselves  to  flight.  Then  immediate- 
ly comes  the  account  in  our  text,  and 
how  naturally  it  comes,  in  what  close 
keeping  with  what  had  preceded.  The 
multitude,  infuriated  at  being  reminded 
of  what  Christ  had  taught  them,  would 


HO 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


have  fallen  on  the  disciples ;  but  the 
disciples  had  escaped  :  on  whom  then 
.shall  the  mob  wreak  its  malice  and 
spite  I  The  Evangelist  proceeds  to  tell 
us — and  nothing  could  more  show  the 
feeling,  the  temper  of  the  crowd  ;  no- 
thing could  more  distinctly  inform  us 
of  a  fact,  of  which  it  is  important  that 
we  he  assured,  that  the  main  producing 
cause  of  the  hatred  shown  to  Christ 
was  the  holiness  of  his  life,  and  the  pu- 
rity id' his  doctrine — the  Evangelist  pro- 
ceeds to  tell  us  that  there  was  a  young 
man  following  Christ,  whose  dress  in- 
dicated pretensions  to  extraordinary 
Banctity;  and  that  the  multitude  seized 
on  this  young  man,  so  that  he  was  forced, 
by  their  violence,  to  leave  the  linen  cloth 
with  which  he  was  clad,  and  to  flee 
away  from  them  naked. 

Now  this  is  so  far  a  sufficient  expla- 
nation of  the  occurrence  before  us,  that 
it  makes  the  dress  of  the  young  man 
give  a  clue  to  his  character,  that  it  ac- 
counts lor  the  treatment  which  he  re- 
ceived from  the  mob,  and  that  it  throws 
light  on  the  reasons  which  moved  the 
Jews  to  the  rejection  of  Christ.  But, 
nevertheless,  we  believe  that  a  yet  deep- 
er meaning  attaches  to  the  incidents  in 
question ;  that  these  incidents  were 
symbolical  or  figurative  :  in  other  words, 
that  they  were  designed  to  shadow  forth 
the  facts  of  our  Redeemer's  final  tri- 
umph over  death. 

Let  us  refer  for  a  moment  to  the  or- 
dinances which  have  respect  to  the  great 
day  of  atonement,  that  day  of  especial 
solemnity  under  the  legal  dispensation, 
when  expiation  was  made  for  the  sins 
of  the  people.  On  that  day  the  pre- 
scription of  the  law  was,  that  the  high 
priest  should  take  two  goats,  and  pre- 
sent them  before  the  Lord  at  the  door 
of  the  tabernacle  of  the  congregation. 
One  of  these  goats  he  was  to  kill  as  a 
sin-offering,  to  bring  its  blood  within  the 
vail,  and  "  sprinkle  it  upon  the  mercy- 
seat,  and  before  the  mercy-seat."  Upon 
the  head  of  the  other  he  was  to  lay 
both  his  hands,  confessing  "  over  him 
all  the  iniquities  of  the  children  of  Is- 
rael, and  all  their  transgressions  in  all 
their  sins,  putting  them  upon  the  head  of 
the  goat ;"  and  the  goat,  thus  burden- 
ed with  the  guiltiness  of  the  congre- 
gation, was  to  be  let  go  into  the  wilder- 
ness,   into    "a    land. not  inhabited." 

There  is  no  debate  that  these  goats, 


taken  together,  constituted  a  type  of 
the  Redeemer.  So  vast  was  his  office, 
so  wondrous  his  work,  that  figures  had 
to  be  'doubled,  ere  they  could  furnish 
any  thing  like  a  sufficient  representa- 
tion. In  the  goat  that  was  slain,  we 
have  the  Redeemer  presenting  Himself 
as  a  sin  offering  unto  Cod,  shedding  the 
precious  blood  which  was  to  be  carried 
within  the  vail,  that  intercession  might 
be  made,  throughout  all  time,  for  the 
Church.  In  the  goat  that  was  sent 
alive  into  the  wilderness,  bearing  away 
all  the  iniquities  of  the  people,  we  have 
the  Redeemer  risen  from  the  grave,  and 
effecting  the  thorough  justification  of 
all  who  should  believe  on  his  name,  their 
sins  being  so  removed,  or  borne  to  an 
uninhabited  land,  that,  though  searched 
for,  they  may  not  be  found.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  one  goat  would  not  have  been 
an  adequate  type,  seeing  that  the  Mes- 
siah had  to  be  represented,  not  only  as 
"  delivered  for  our  offences,"  but  as 
"  raised  again  for  our  justification."  But. 
the  two  goats  furnished  a  sufficient  and 
accurate  figure ;  the  one  having  been 
significant  of  our  Lord  as  offered  on 
the  cross,  the  other  as  returning  from 
the  grave  :  so  that,  together,  they  shad- 
owed out  the  sacrifice  presented,  the 
acceptance  of  the  sacrifice,  and  its  pre- 
valence as  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of 
the  world. 

But  now  was  it  not  in  a  measure  to 
be  expected,  that,  when  the  time  came 
which  the  great  day  of  atonement  had 
all  along  prefigured,  there  would  be 
something  to  remind  men  of  the  double 
type  1  something,  at  least,  to  assure  the 
devout  Jew,  who  should  look  sorrow- 
ingly  upon  Christ  led  away  as  the  goat 
to  the  slaughter,  that  he  would  yet  be- 
hold in  him  the  live  goat,  escaping  to  a 
far  land,  and  bearing  into  forgetfulness 
the  sins  of  the  people  1  And  with  what 
precision  was  the  double  type  embodi- 
ed, if  you  observe  that  the  crowd,  with 
Judas  at  their  head,  lay  hold  not  only 
upon  Jesus,  but  on  the  young  man  who 
followed  him,  clothed  in  the  sindon,  the 
linen  garment  that  was  usually  wrapped 
round  the  dead !  We  have  shown  you, 
that,  except  in  describing  the  dress  of 
this  young  man,  the  Evangelists  no- 
where mention  the  sindon  but  where 
they  have  to  speak  of  the  raiment  in 
which  Christ  was  consigned  to  the 
grave.     This  is  surely  very  remarkable : 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


HI 


it  is  as  though  to  force  us  to  connect  in 
some  way  the  appearance,  the  mysteri- 
ous appearance,  of  the  young  man  .so 
strangely    attired,    with    the    burial    of 

Christ ;  to  compel  us  to  assign  it  a  pro- 
phetic or  typical  character,  in  place  of 
passing  it  over  as  an  incident  from  which 
little  can  be  learned.  As  Christ  is  led 
to  trial,  and,  therefore,  virtually,  to  cru- 
cifixion, He  is  followed  by  a  young 
man  having  nothing  on  his  naked  body 
but  the  vesture  in  which,  after  having 
been  crucified,  Christ  would  be  laid  by 
Joseph  in  the  tomb.  The  same  parties 
who  have  seized  Christ,  lay  hold  on  this 
young  man,  and  try  to  detain  him.  But 
though  he  is  but  one  against  a  multitude, 
he  escapes  from  their  hands — he  es- 
capes;  but  he  escapes  naked,  leaving 
the  grave-clothes  behind  him.  Is  not 
this  Christ,  who,  when  He  had  put  on 
the  grave-clothes,  was  not  to  be  kept  in 
the  grave  by  all  the  malice  and  power 
of  His  enemies ;  but  who  sprang  from 
the  grasp  of  the  tomb,  leaving  in  it  the 
raiment  in  which  He  had  been  bound 
up  for  burial  ] 

So  then,  just  as,  on  the  great  day  of 
atonement,  in  looking  at  the  two  goats 
held  by  the  high  priest,  you  looked  on 
an  accurate  exhibition  of  the  two  grand 
facts,  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,  and 
that  he  rose  for  our  justification  ;  so,  in 
now  looking  upon  Jesus  led  to  the 
slaughter,  and  at  the  same  moment  upon 
the  young  man  fleeing  away  naked,  you 
may  be  said  to  take  in  at  one  glance,  the 
tragedy  of  the  crucifixion,  and  the  tri- 
umph of  the  resurrection.  The  young 
man  is  brought  upon  the  scene  clothed 
as  an  inhabitant  of  the  grave,  that  there 
might  be  a  filling  up  of  the  picture 
which  would  otherwise  have  presented 
nothing  but  the  dark  lines  of  death — a 
filling  it  up  with  the  wondrous  exhibi- 
tion of  that  very  person,  who  was  now 
being  hurried  to  an  ignominious  end, 
breaking  loose  from  the  hold  even  of 
the  sepulchre  itself,  leaving  evidence 
behind,  in  "the  linen  clothes  laid  by 
themselves,"  of  his  having  spoiled  death 
of  its  sting,  and  the  grave  of  its  victory. 

I  do  not  know  how,  to  a  mind  fraught 
with  the  typical  instruction  of  the  great 
day  of  atonement,  there  could  have  been 
more  beautiful  or  appropriate  manifes- 
tations of  the  truth,  that  Christ  would 
quickly  rise,  and,  in  rising,  perfect  the 
justification  of  his  Church.     I  know  not 


whether  there  were  any  who  decipher- 
ed, and  made  use  of  the  manifestation. 
But  it  is  easy  to  imagine,  and  instruc- 
tive to  suppose,  that  some  studied  the 
incidents,  and  drew  from  them  the  pur- 
posed intelligence.  There  may  have 
been  in  the  crowd  a  devout  and  aged 
Jew,  like  Simeon,  who  had  long  been 
diligent  in  the  services  of  the  Temple, 
searching  in  those  services  for  notices 
of  the  scheme  of  redemption,  for  types 
or  figures  of  the  deliverance  promised, 
from  the  earliest  time,  to  the  fallen  race 
of  men.  And  such  a  Jew  would  natu- 
rally have  given  his  special  study  to  the 
solemnities  of  the  great  day  of  atone- 
ment. These  solemnities,  more  than 
any  other,  would  have  made  pass  before 
him,  in  fearful  procession,  the  dark,  yet 
glorious,  things  of  the  Messiah's  endur- 
ances and  achievements.  And  now  he 
holds  with  himself  an  engrossing  debate, 
as  to  whether  The  being,  who  had 
wrought  so  many  wonders,  but  is  now 
in  the  hands  of  bloodthirsty  persecutors, 
can  indeed  be  the  Christ  so  long,  and  so 
ardently  expected.  There  is  nothing 
in  his  being  led  to  the  slaughter,  to  per- 
suade him  that  He  cannot  be  the  Christ : 
he  remembers  the  slaying  of  the  goat  for 
a  sin-offering,  and  feels  that  without 
shedding  of  blood  can  be  no  remission. 
But  then  he  also  remembers,  that  side 
by  side  with  the  goat  for  a  sin-offering, 
used  to  stand  a  goat  on  which  death 
might  not  pass — the  typical  exhibition 
thus  cheering  the  worshipper  with  the 
certainty  that  the  sin-offering  would  suf- 
fice, that  the  victim,  substituted  in  his 
stead,  would  re-appear  after  death,  and 
prevail,  in  the  largest  sense,  to  the  re- 
moving all  his  guilt.  O  for  something 
of  the  like  double  representation,  if  this 
indeed  be  the  victim  appointed  of  God 
for  the  redemption  of  the  world  !  O 
for  something  to  correspond  to  the  goat 
escaping  as  well  as  to  the  goat  dying  ! 
The  wish  is  granted.  Close  by  the 
Lord  Jesus,  clad  in  raiment  which  might 
seem  to  indicate  an  inhabitant  of  the 
grave,  stands  a  young  man,  fixing  atten- 
tion by  the  strangeness  of  his  attire.  As 
the  devout  Jew  gazes  on  this  figure, 
hardly  knowing  whether  it  belong  to 
the  living  or  the  dead,  he  sees  him  seiz- 
ed by  the  very  parties  who  are  leading 
away  Christ.  Ah,  the  two  goats  are 
now  in  the  hands  of  the  sacrificers,  but 
will  neither  escape  1  will  the  typical 
2 


142 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  THE  LINEN  CLOTH. 


representation  not  find  itself  verified  1 
It  is  a  moment  of  intense  anxiety.  But 
all  doubt  should  disappear,  there  should 
be  nothing  but  conviction  that  Jesus, 
though  He  must  die,  would  rise  from 
the  dead,  rise  as  a  conqueror,  rise  as  a 
justifier,  when  the  seeming  inhabitant  of 
the  tomb  bursts  from  those  that  would 
detam  him,  leaves  the  linen  cloth,  and 
flees  away  naked. 

And  thus  the  incident  which  has  en- 
gaged our  attention,  is  made  to  fill  an 
important  place  as  symbolical,  or  pro- 
phetic, of  Christ's  triumph  over  his  en- 
emies. It  comes  in  at  the  very  moment 
when  it  must  have  been  most  needed, 
when  faith  was  put  to  its  sorest  trial, 
the  Redeemer  appearing  to  have  fallen 
filially  into  the  hands  of  the  powers  of 
darkness.  It  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
most  strikingly  significative  of  Christ's 
return  from  the  grave — significative, 
moreover,  through  an  exactness  of  cor- 
respondence with  the  types  of  the  law  : 
so  that  it  addressed  itself  especially  to 
those,  who,  conversant  with  the  figures 
of  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  justly  looked 
to  find  answerable  realities  in  the  action's 
and  endurances  of  the  promised  Messiah. 
I  look  on  this  spectre-like  figure,  this 
scarcely  earthly  form  habited  in  grave- 
clothes,  as  I  would  upon  a  prophet,  mys- 
teriously raised  up  to  utter  a  prediction, 
at  the  moment  when  the  prediction  was 
most  needed,  and  in  the  language  which 
would  be  best  understood  by  the  hear- 
ers ;  a  prediction  of  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus ;  a  prediction,  therefore,  whose 
tenor  was  most  nicely  adapted  to  cheer 
his  dispirited  followers,  and  which,  as 
being  woven  out  of  the  symbols  of  the 
law,  .could  hardly  fail  to  carry  with  it 
its  interpretation  to  those  whom  it  ad- 
dressed. 

And  on  this  view  of  the  occurrence', 
there  is  something,  we  think,  very  mem- 
orable, in  the  order  already  mentioned, 
in  which  the  Evangelist  has  catalogued 
events.  It  is  immediately  after  the 
statement,  "  and  they  all  forsook  him 
and  fled,"  that  St.  Mark  gives  the  ac- 
count of  the  young  man's  seizure  and 
escape.  Why  had  the  disciples  thus 
abandoned  and  fled  from  their  Master, 
except  that  his  apprehension  by  his  en- 
emies, and  the  apparent  certainty  of  his 
being  put  to  death,  seemed  to  them  de- 
structive of  all  hope  of  his  working  out 
their  deliverance,  and  proving  Himself 


the  Messiah  that  was  to  reign  over  Is- 
rael ]  They  took  fright  at  the  first  out- 
break of  violence,  so  soon  as  there  was 
any  symptom  of  Christ's  yielding  to  the 
wicked  :  whereas  if  they  would  but 
manfully  have  stood  their  ground  a  little 
while,  they  might  have  been  strengthen- 
ed by  a  revelation  from  above,  and  have 
learned  to  brave  the  ignominy  of  a  mo- 
ment's defeat,  in  the  certainty  of  an  ever- 
lasting triumph.  For  no  sooner  had 
they  yielded  to  unbelief  and  cowardice, 
and  forsaken  their  Lord,  than  there  hap- 
pened that  significative  occurrence  on 
which  we  have  been  speaking,  and 
which  portrayed  so  powerfully,  in  fig- 
ures corresponding  to  those  of  the  law, 
that  He  who  died  for  their  offences  would 
rise  for  their  justification.  They  just 
missed,  you  see,  the  delivery  of  a  most 
expressive  and  intelligible  prophecy, 
the  effect  of  which  could  hardly  fail  to 
have  been  the  reassuring  of  their  minds, 
and  the  arming  them  with  confidence 
and  hope  for  that  season  of  affliction 
through  which  they  had  to  pass.  Oh, 
how  often  with  ourselves  may  there  be 
something  of  the  like  missing,  as  by  a 
moment  or  a  hairbreadth,  of  a  gracious 
communication  which  would  scatter  our 
doubts,  disperse  our  fears,  and  fill  us 
with  joyful  expectation.  We  are  so  im- 
patient, so  little  disposed  to  "  wait  upon 
the  Lord,"  so  ready  to  take  to  flight  the 
instant  an  enemy  comes  in  view,  that 
often,  very  often  it  may  be,  we  yield  to 
despair,  and  give  up  all  for  lost,  exactly 
when  a  little  perseverance  would  have 
put  us  in  possession  of  such  manifesta- 
tions of  God's  purpose  as  could  hardly 
have  failed  to  nerve  for  conflict,  or 
strengthen  for  endurance.  We  forsake 
Christ,  because  He  is  in  the  hands  of  his 
enemies  ;  when,  if  we  would  but  hold 
by  Him  a  while  longer,  God  would  show 
us  Christ  triumphing,  leaving  nothing 
but  the  linen-cloth  in  the  grasp  of  his 
enemies,  evidence  of  their  utter  defeat, 
and  his  glorious  escape. 

Let  us  take  this  lesson  from  the  sym- 
bolical occurrence  which  has  been  undei 
review — a  lesson  as  to  perseverance  in 
duty,  though  in  the  face  of  dangers  and 
difficulties.  The  supplies  of  God's  grace 
are  to  be  expected  in  the  way  of  God's 
commands.  The  duty  of  the  disciples 
was  to  have  kept  close  to  Christ :  had 
they  done  this,  God,  as  we  now  see,  had 
prepared  for  them  a  typical  revelation, 


THE  FIKE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


143 


most  nicely  adapted  to  their  confirmation 
and  comfort  :  whereas,  by  shrinking 
from  Christ,  they  lost  the  disclosure, 
and  were  punished  by  being  left  in  dark- 
ness and  dismay.  In  religion,  as  in  war, 
there  is  nothing  gained  by  cowardice  : 
he  who  turns  his  back  upon  the  enemy, 
and  flees  from  the  field,  may  indeed 
seem  to  have  his  life  as  his  reward  ;  but 
he  might  perhaps  have  had  both  his  life 
and  his  honor  had  he  stood  to  his  colors  ; 
and,  unable  ever  after  to  lift  up  his  head, 
lie  had  better  have  laid  it  at  once  amongst 
the  heaps  of  the  slain. 

And  in  religion,  if  not  in  war,  there 
is  certainty,  that  if  we  persevere,  we 
shall  meet  succors  ;  if  we  retreat,  retreat 
on  worse  dangers  than  we  seek  to  avoid. 


Persevere  then  in  every  duty  without 
regard  to  the  discouragement  :  the  next 
onward  step  may  bring  you  into  com- 
parative light  ;  the  least  backward  is 
sure  to  land  you  in  thicker  darkness. 
Ah,  learn  from  the  disciples  :  hastily  for- 
saking Christ,  they  tied  to  mourn  over 
disappointed  hopes,  over  a  leader  in 
whom  they  could  no  longer  trust,  be- 
cause He  was  Himself  the  prey  of  the 
wicked,  "  a  very  scorn  and  outcast  :  " 
but,  had  they  kept  firmly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments longer  at  his  side,  they  might  have 
been  confident,  even  whilst  He  hung  on 
the  cross,  assured  of  finding  his  grave 
deserted,  but  with  the  linen  cloth  in  it 
to  prove  that  He  was  risen. 


SERMON    II 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


-  As  soon  then  as  they  were  come  to  land,  they  saw  a  fire  of  coals  there,  and  fish  laid  thereon  and   bread, 
saith  unto  them,  Bring  of  the  fish  which  ye  have  now  caught." — St.  John,  xxi.  9,  10. 


These  words  form  part  of  the  account 
of  what  St.  John  speaks  of  as  Christ's 
third  manifestation  of  Himself  "  to  his 
disciples  after  that  he  was  risen  from 
the  dead."  The  most  careless  reader, 
perhaps,  can  hardly  peruse  the  words, 
without  feeling  that  there  is  something 
strange  and  mysterious  in  what  they 
state.  How  came  this  fire  of  coals  on 
this  lonely  shore  1  Who  kindled  it  1 
Who  laid  out  the  provision,  the  fish,  and 
the  bread  ]  If,  as  we  can  scarcely  doubt, 
there  were  something  symbolical  or  sig- 
nificative, in  what  thus  met  the  disciples' 
view  so  soon  as  they  were  come  to  land, 
what  are  the  truths,  what  the  lessons, 
that  were  figuratively  conveyed  1 

We  have  a  great  and  difficult  subject 
of  discourse  before  us.  We  must  pro- 
ceed   with    caution,  we  must    proceed 


with  prayer  :  the  inspired  historian  adds 
no  explanation ;  he  gives  nothing  but 
the  facts  ;  but  the  facts  would  not  have 
been  written,  except  for  our  admonition 
and  instruction  :  we  are,  therefore,  to 
study  them  with  all  care,  but  at  the  same 
time,  in  simple  dependence  on  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Holy  Spirit,  through  which 
alone  can  the  dark  things  of  Scripture 
be  made  clear,  and  the  intricate  plain. 

Let  us  begin  with  looking  attentively 
at  the  foregoing  parts  of  the  narrative  : 
these  may  greatly  assist  to  a  right  un- 
derstanding of  the  facts  upon  which  we 
are  specially  to  comment. 

The  chapter  before  us  opens  with  the 
mention  of  the  assembling  of  seven  of 
our  Lord's  disciples  on  the  coast  of  the 
Sea  of  Tiberias.  The  solemn  interview 
which  Christ  had  promised  to  grant  to 


144 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


his  followers  on  the  mountain  in  Galilee 
appears  not  to  have  yet  taken  place  ; 
we  may  suppose  that  the  disciples  were 
waiting  for  the  commission  which  they 
were  then  to  receive  :  in  the  mean  time 
they  were  at  liberty,  and,  perhaps,  even 
necessitated  by  want,  to  pursue  their 
original  occupations.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, St.  Peter  tells  the  other  dis- 
ciples of  his  intention  of  going  a-fishing. 
They  agree  to  accompany  him  :  the  se- 
ven embark  together,  and  spend  the 
night  in  fruitless  toil,  for  they  caught 
nothing.  But  when  the  morning  came, 
there  stood  on  the  shore,  one,  at  least, 
whom  the  disciples  did  not  recognize, 
though  it  was  none  other  than  the  r-isen 
Christ  Himself.  The  boat  being  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  shore,  Christ 
could  speak  to  the  disciples  ;  and  He 
accordingly  inquired  of  them  whether 
they  had  any  meat  1  On  their  answer- 
ing, No,  He  directed  them  to  cast  the 
net  on  the  right  side  of  the  ship,  and  as- 
sured them  they  should  find. 

Though  the  disciples  did  not  recog- 
nize their  Master,  there  must  have  been 
something  in  the  air  and  appearance  of 
the  speaker,  which  commanded  their  at- 
tention, and,  perhaps,  caused  them  to 
suspect  who  it  was  ;  otherwise  they 
would  hardly  have  been  prompt  to  obey 
a  command  which,  after  toiling  all  night 
in  vain,  they  might  have  been  disposed 
to  consider  as  uttered  either  in  igno- 
rance or  presumption.  They  however 
cast  the  net  without  hesitation,  and  im- 
mediately enclosed  so  great  a  multitude 
of  fishes,  that  they  were  unable  to  draw 
it.  This  miracle — for  they  could  scarce- 
ly fail  at  once  to  regard  as  miraculous, 
so  sudden  and  large  a  draught  of  fishes, 
occurring  at  the  moment  when  they 
were  about  to  give  up  in  despair — sug- 
gested that  the  stranger  on  the  shore 
must  be  Jesus  Himself;  the  miracle,  in- 
dependently of  its  wonderfulness,  was 
so  similar  in  its  nature  and  circumstan- 
ces to  that  which  had  preceded  the 
calling  of  Peter,  that  the  dullest  must 
have  eutertained  a  suspicion,  if  not  a 
conviction,  of  the  presence  of  the  Sa- 
vior. 

But  it  was  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved — for  affection  is  quicksighted — 
who  first  satisfied  himself  as  to  its  being 
the  Lord ;  and  on  his  telling  this  to  Pe- 
ter, that  impetuous,  but  ardent  disciple 
threw  himself  into  the  sea,  that  he  might 


hasten  to  the  Master  whom  he  Had  late 
ly  so  fiercely  denied,  but  to  whom  he 
now  longed  to  give  proof  of  a  devoted- 
ness  increased  by  the  remembrance  of 
his  fall,  and  the  graciousness  of  his  for- 
giveness. The  other  disciples,  acting 
with  less  vehemence,  but  equally  desir- 
ing to  be  with  their  Lord,  proceeded  to- 
wards the  land  in  their  sliip,  dragging 
with  them  the  net  and  its  ponderou 
closure.  And  then  it  was,  on  their  all 
reaching  the  shore — perhaps  much  at 
the  same  moment ;  for  Peter,  in  his  im- 
petuousness,  may  not  have  outstripped 
his  brethren  who  took  a  more  ordinary 
way  of  approaching  their  Lord — then  it 
was  that  they  found  what  is  described 
in  the  text,  the  fire  of  coals,  and  provi- 
sion for  a  repast. 

The  fire  could  hardly  have  been  kin- 
dled by  themselves  over-night ;  they  had 
been  absent  many  hours,  and  what  they 
had  lighted  would  have  been  extinguish  • 
ed.  They  appear,  moreover,  to  have 
gone  a-fishing  from  being  in  want  of  pro- 
vision ;  at  all  events,  they  would  hardly 
have  left  fish  behind  them  on  the  shore  ; 
or,  if  they  had,  the  fish  which  now  stood 
ready  for  their  meal  could  not  have  been 
that  which  their  own  hands  had  placed 
on  the  coals  :  the  supposition  is  prepos- 
terous, that  they  had  lighted  the  fire  be- 
fore embarking,  and  laid  fish  upon  it  to 
cook  whilst  they  were  absent  on  the  sea. 

Besides,  there  is  something  peculiar 
in  the  way  in  which  St.  John  mentions 
the  fire  and  the  provision.  He  is  par- 
ticular in  noting  that  it  was  "  as  soon  as 
they  were  come  to  land  "  that  the  dis- 
ciples saw  this  fire  of  coals.  It  was  the 
first  object  which  met  their  eye  on  land- 
ing. There  would  have  been  nothing  to 
mention,  had  this  fire  been  only  what 
they  had  themselves  kindled  over-night. 
And  we  may  believe  that  the  Evangelist 
is  so  careful  in  pointing  out  that  the  fire 
was  seen  at  the  instant  of  reaching  the 
shore,  on  purpose  to  make  us  under- 
stand that  the  disciples  did  not  light  it 
after  they  landed,  and  that  neither  did 
they  stir  up  the  embers  of  the  day  before. 
You  might  have  expected  that  the  dis- 
ciples would  have  been  so  engrossed 
with  looking  at  their  risen  Master  as  to 
have  had  no  eye  for  any  other  abject. 
Neither  would  they  have  had,  we  may 
venture  to  believe,  unless  for  something 
startling  and  mysterious.  But  that 
strange  fire,  kindled,  as  they  may  have 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


145 


felt,  by  invisible  hands,  seems  to  have 
drawn  off  their  attention  even  from 
Christ :  it  fixed  their  gaze  as  they  set 
foot  upon  the  shore,  and,  perhaps,  like 
the  burning-bush  with  Moses,  helped  to 
persuade  them  of  the  actual  presence  of 
Divinity. 

And  now  you  will  observe,  that, 
though  there  was  all  the  material  for  a 
repast — angels,  or  the  Redeemer  Him- 
self, having  in  their  absence  made  ready 
the  fish  and  the  bread — Christ  does  not 
forthwith  invite  them  to  dine,  but  first  of 
all — this  is  a  very  significant  circum- 
stance— directs  them  to  bring  of  the  fish 
which  they  had  caught.  Neither  was 
this  direction  complied  with  in  haste,  a 
hand  being  thrust  into  the  net,  and  some 
of  the  rich  store  transferred  to  the  coals  ; 
there  appears,  on  the  contrary,  to  have 
been  great  deliberation  :  the  net  was 
drawn  to  land ;  the  fish  were  counted, 
and  found  to  be  in  number  one  hundred 
and  fifty  and  three ;  and  it  was  not  till 
this  had  been  done,  and  then,  as  we  may 
conjecture,  some  of  the  newly-caught 
fish  had  been  dressed,  in  addition  to 
those  already  prepared,  that  our  Lord 
bade  his  disciples  partake  of  the  meal 
pi-ovided  for  them  by  his  supernatural 
power. 

Such  are  the  main  circumstances  of 
the  narrative.  You  cannot  fail  to  be 
impressed  with  the  sense  as  of  some- 
thing strange  and  unearthly.  You  feel 
that,  like  Moses  in  Horeb,  you  must  put 
off  the  shoes  from  your  feet,  ere  you  pre- 
sume to  approach  the  mysterious  fire 
which  seems  to  have  been  kindled  in  a 
moment ;  for  the  disciples  saw  it  not  till 
they  had  set  foot  upon  the  shore,  though 
you  might  have  expected  it  to  have  been 
visible  during  the  night ;  come  then,  and 
let  it  be  with  all  awe  and  humility,  but 
nevertheless  in  the  hope  of  instruction 
and  comfort,  that  we  gather  with  the 
disciples  round  this  fire  of  coals,  and  en- 
deavor to  decipher  the  symbolical  les- 
sons which  the  whole  transaction  may 
have  been  designed  to  convey. 

Now  there  are  one  or  two  supposi- 
tions which  will  present  themselves  to  a 
thoughtful  mind,  and  which  deserve  a 
passing  notice,  though  they  may  be  evi- 
dently incommensurate  with  the  facts 
oLthe  case.  It  may  readily  occur  to  you 
as  one  explanation  of  the  kindled  fire, 
and  prepared  repast,  that  Christ  had 
been  thinking  kindly  of  his  wearied  and 
19 


hungry  disciples ;  that,  knowing  how 
they  had  spent  the  night,  and  how  much 
they  would  be  in  need  of  refreshment. 
He  had  graciously  employed  his  powei 
in  making  ready  a  meal,  where,  had 
they  been  left  to  themselves,  they  would 
have  been  utterly  destitute.  We  need 
not  exclude  this  explanation.  We  may 
believe  that  it  was  part  of  the  purpose 
of  our  gracious  and  compassionate  Lord, 
to  supply  the  bodily  wants  of  his  fol- 
lowers, to  provide  fire  to  warm  them, 
and  food  to  satisfy  them.  But  there  is 
too  much  reason  for  regarding  the  mi- 
raculous draught  of  fishes,  like  every 
other  miracle,  as  designed  to  serve  for  a 
parable,  to  allow  of  our  being  content 
with  an  interpretation  of  the  text  which 
would  strip  it  of  all  figure,  and  reduce 
it  into  a  mere  evidence  of  the  tender 
consideration  of  Christ  for  his  people. 

There  is  another  explanation  which 
may  suggest  itself,  and  which  makes  the 
whole  transaction  refer  especially  to  St. 
Peter.  It  would  certainly  seem  as  if 
one  great  object  of  this  manifestation  of 
Christ,  had  been  the  publicly  restoring 
to  the  Apostleship  the  disciple  who  had 
so  shamefully  denied  Him,  but  whose 
repentance  had  been  as  bitter  as  his  of- 
fence had  been  flagrant.  You  will  re- 
member, that,  so  soon  as  the  dinner  was 
over,  Christ  addressed  Peter  with  the 
question,  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  me,  more  than  these  ]  "  And  when 
Peter  had  replied,  "  Yea,  Lord,  thou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee,"  Christ  said 
unto  him,  "  Feed  my  lambs."  This 
was,  as  it  were,  the  reinvesting  Peter 
with  the  pastoral  office,  of  which  he 
might  justly  be  thought  to  have  stripped 
himself,  when  he  basely,  and  with  an 
oath,  declared  that  he  belonged  not  to 
Christ.  But  Peter  denied  his  Master 
thrice  ;  and  thrice  did  Christ  now  pro- 
pose the  same  question ;  and,  receiving 
the  same  answer,  thrice  did  He  deliver 
the  same  charge  of  feeding  the  flock.  An 
if  Peter  had  thrice  lost  the  Apostleship, 
by  thrice  denying  Christ,  Christ  thrice 
restored  to  him  the  office,  that  he  him- 
self, and  the  other  Apostles,  might  have 
no  doubt  as  to  his  having  been  forgiven, 
and,  as  it  were,  rcordaincd.  And  when 
our  Lord  had  thus  publicly  reinvested 
Peter  with  the  Apostleship,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  prophesy  "  by  what  death  he 
should  glorify  God  ;  "  so  that  almost  the 
whole  of  this  interview,  as  far  as  it  is 


146 


THE  FIRE  Q.\  THE  SHORE. 


recorded  by  the  Evangelist,  was  occu- 
pied with  matters  personal  to  St.  Peter, 
as  though  it  had  been  on  his  account,  or 
for  his  sake,  that  Christ  showed  Him- 
self the  third  time  to  his  disciples. 

But  how  does  the  mode,  or  character 
of  the  manifestation  agree  with  the  sup- 
position of  its  having  been  granted  with 
an  especial  view  to  St.  Peter,  to  his 
public  reinvestment  with  the  pastoral 
office!  .Most  accurately;  for  when  Si- 
mon Peter  was  first  called  by  Christ, 
called  that  is, — for  there  had  been  pre- 
vious intercourse, — to  forsake  his  world- 
ly occupation,  and  devote  himself  to  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  Christ  wrought, 
as  you  will  reraeniber,  a  miracle  precise- 
ly similar,  in  its  nature  and  circumstan- 
ces, to  that  recorded  in  the  narrative 
which  we  have  under  review.  Simon 
Pr»ter,  and  his  partners,  were  then  in  a 
ship  on  the  sea  of  Gennesareth.  They 
had  then  toiled  all  night,  and  taken  no 
fish.  At  the  bidding  of  Christ,  the)'  then 
also  let  down  the  net ;  and  the  result  then 
also  was,  that  immediately  "they  en- 
closed a  great  multitude  of  fishes."  And 
then  it  was  that,  Simon  Peter  being 
overcome  by  the  miracle,  Christ  separa- 
ted him  for  the  office,  to  which  he  af- 
terwards gave  a  more  solemn  appoint- 
ment, saying,  "  Fear  not ;  from  hence- 
forth thou  shalt  catch  men." 

So  that  there  could  not  well  be  a 
more  accurate  correspondence  than  be- 
tween the  mode  in  which  Christ  pre- 
pared for  Peter's  first  ordination,  and 
that  in  which  he  made  way  for  the  re- 
OEdaining  him  after  his  calamitous  fall. 
It  can  hardly  be  imagined  but  that  the 
similarity  of  the  miracle  must  have 
painfully  forced  itself  on  the  attention 
of  St.  Peter,  bringing  back  to  the  mind 
of  the  penitent  disciple  the  happy  oc- 
casion on  which  he  had  forsaken  allthat 
he  might  follow  our  Lord,  and  perhaps 
suggesting  how  deplorably  he  had  since 
altered  Ins  position,  through  overween- 
ing confidence  in  his  own  stedfastness 
and  courage. 

But  whilst,  there  was  thus  what  we 
might  call  a  repetition  of  the  whole 
matter  of  Peter's  ordination,  what  had 
"  the  fire  of  coals  "  to  do  with  the  trans- 
action ?  It  is  this  of  which  we  chiefly 
seek  the  purport  or  design  ;  and  it.  does 
not  appear  how  it  served,  or  contribu- 
ted, to  the  supposed  object  of  this  third 
manifestation  of  Christ. 


But  we  consider  that  Christ  caused  a 
miraculous  draught  of  fishes,  to  remind 
Peter  how  He  had  called  him  original- 
ly, and  to  produce  in  him  a  sorrowing 
remembrance  of  his  grievous  apostasy. 
Christ  will  not  solemnly  reinvest  Peter 
with  the  pastoral  office,  till  He  has 
made  him  again  and  deeply  feel  his 
heinous  offence.  And  the  miracle  of 
the  draught  of  fishes  will  have  caused 
Peter  much  compunction  and  bitterness 
of  soul — reminding  him  of  what  Christ 
had  done  for  him,  it  must  have  remind- 
ed him  also,  and  that  too  like  the  pierc- 
ings of  a  sword,' of  his  ingratitude  and 
cowardice.  But  the  sad  facts  of  his 
denial  of  his  Lord  require  to  be  yet 
more  vividly  brought  back  to  his  mind, 
that  he  may,  through  the  painful  recol- 
lections, be  yet  better  fitted  for  rein- 
statement in  his  office.  And  might  not 
"  the  fire  of  coals  "  help  in  a  measure  to 
recal  the  painful  act  of  apostasy  1  Thus 
much  is  certain,  that  the  expression,  "  a. 
fire  of  coals,"  occurs  only  in  one  other 
place  in  the  New  Testament,  as  though 
this  were  not  the  oi'dinary  sort  of  fire, 
and  the  Evangelist  wished  especially  to 
mark  of  what  it  was  made.  And  it  is 
the  same  Evangelist,  St.  John,  who 
uses  the  word  on  the  two  occasions  ;  St. 
John,  whose  great  object  in  writing  his 
Gospel  appears  to  have  been  to  supply 
the  omissions  of  the  preceding  histori- 
ans. But  what  is  the  other  occasion  on 
which  St.  John  mentions  "  a  fire  of 
coals  ?  "  It  is  when  he  is  relating  what 
took  place  in  the  palace  of  the  high 
priest,  after  Jesus  had  been  apprehend- 
ed, and  brought  before  Caiaphas.  "  And 
the  servants  and  officers  stood  there, 
who  had  made  a  fire  of  coals  (for  it  was 
cold);  and  they  warmed  themselves: 
and  Peter  stood  with  them,  and  warmed 
himself." 

It  was,  then,  whilst  he  stood  by  this 
"fire  of  coals,"  that  Peter  denied  his 
blessed  Lord  and  Master.  It  was 
whilst  he  stood  by  this  tire  of  coals  that 
Christ  threw  on  him  that  look  which 
painting  never  caught,  and  which,  fol- 
lowing on  the  crowing  of  the  cock, 
caused  him  to  go  forth  and  weep  bit- 
terly. Was  not,  then,  "  a  fire  of  coals," 
found  mysteriously  kindled  by  unknown 
hands  on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  likely 
to  recall  to  Peter  the  circumstances  of 
his  apostasy  1  It  were  hard  to  believe, 
that,  painfully  affected  as  he  must  al- 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


147 


ready  have  been  by  the  miracle  of  the 
fishes,  he  could  have  looked  on  that 
strange  fire,  produced  to  all  appearance 
by  another  miracle  of  Christ,  and  not 
have  had  all  the  scene  in  the  high 
priest's  palace  brought  back  upon  him 
with  a  sort  of  crushing  power.  Again 
is  he  standing  as  he  stood  on  that  fatal 
night,  and  again  he  meets  the  look, 
which,  more  terrible  in  its  meek  re- 
proachfulness  than  the  fiercest  glance  of 
indignation  and  vengeance,  convicted 
him  of  apostasy,  and  convulsed  him 
with  remorse.  So  that  the  "  lire  of 
coals,"  so  pointedly  mentioned  by  the 
Evanglist,  who  alone  of  the  sacred  his- 
torians, had  recorded  of  what  the  fire 
was  made  in  the  high  priest's  hall,  helps 
to  complete  the  series  of  symbolical 
facts,  if  you  suppose  the  manifestation  of 
Christ,  on  the  occasion  before  us,  to  have 
been  granted  with  a  view  specially  to  the 
reordination  of  St.  Peter.  On  this  sup- 
position, you  are  to  consider  that  our 
blessed  Redeemer,  graciously  design- 
ing, by  a  triple  commission  which  should 
correspond  to  the  triple  denial,  to  re- 
store His  disciple  to  the  pastoral  office, 
so  arranged  the  circumstances  of  His 
manifestation  of  Himself  as  to  fix  Pe- 
ter's attention  on  the  Apostleship  with 
which  he  had  been  honored,  and  on  the 
apostasy  by  which  he  had  deserved  to 
forfeit  it  altogether.  Nothing  could  be 
better  constructed  to  fix  his  attention  on 
the  apostleship  than  a  miracle  most  ac- 
curately resembling  that  which  had  first 
moved  him  to  forsake  all  and  follow 
Christ ;  and,  accordingly,  after  another 
night  of  fruitless  toil,  the  net  is  again 
ordered  to  be  cast  into  the  sea,  and 
again  incloses  a  huge  multitude  of  fishes. 
But  how,  upon  this  wild  sea-shore,  is 
lie'  to  be  forcibly  reminded  of  his  apos- 
tasy I  What  shall  people  that  shore 
with  recollections  of  the  scene  of  dis- 
aster and  shame  ]  Nay,  if  it  was  by 
"  a  fire  of  coals "  that  the  recreant 
Apostle  stood  when  he  thrice  denied 
his  L:>rd,  and  if  "  a  fire  of  coals " 
were  among  the  last  things  to  be  look- 
ed for  on  the  solitary  coast,  it  might 
be  hard  to  say  what  could  have  been 
better  fitted  than  a  "  fire  of  coals  "  to 
fill  Peter  with  a  remembrance  of  his 
terrible  fall.  Oh  it  .must  have  been  to 
him  as  though  there  thronged  up  from 
the  past  the  taunting  questions  of  the 
servants,  and  his  own  fierce  execrations, 


and  the  shrill  crowing  of  the  cock,  and 
the  piercing  subduing  look  of  his  Lord, 
when,  so  soon  as  he  was  come  to  land, 
he  "  saw  a  fire  of  coals  there,"  lighted 
he  knew  not  how,  but  for  what  he  could 
not  doubt. 

But  whilst  we  think  that  such  an  ex- 
planation agrees  admirably  with  many 
of  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  and 
is  replete  with  interest  and  instruction, 
we  cannot  give  it  you  as  in  every  respect 
satisfactory.  Indeed,  it  manifestly  dues 
not  meet  the  whole  of  the  facts.  It 
gives  no  account  of  the  preparations 
which  had  been  made  for  a  repast,  nor 
of  the  reckoning  up  the  fish,  nor  of  the 
directing  that  certain  of  the  fish  just 
caught  should  be  dressed  in  addition  to 
those  already  prepared — a  significant 
circumstance  beyond  doubt  ;  for  He 
who  had  miraculously  provided  a  cer- 
tain quantity,  and  laid  it  on  the  coals, 
as  if  to  await  the  landing  of  the  disci- 
ples, might  undoubtedly  have  caused 
that  this  certain  quantity  should  be 
enough,  and  that  there  should  be  no 
need  for  waiting  till  a  portion  of  the 
fresh  draught  were  dressed.  We  have 
still,  then,  to  seek  an  explanation  which 
shall  satisfy  all  parts  of  the  narrative  : 
and  this,  we  think,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
progress  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  con- 
nection between  the  old  and  new  dis- 
pensations. 

In  one  of  our  Lord's  parables,  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  likened  unto  a 
net,  which,  being  cast  into  the  sea, 
"  gathered  of  every  kind ;  "  so  that  we 
may  be  said  to  have  Christ's  own  au- 
thority for  considering  that  the  miracu- 
lous draught  of  fishes  represented  the 
bringing  of  multitudes  into  the  Church 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
preachers  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  observa- 
ble also  that  Simon  Peter  is  said  to  have 
drawn  the  net  to  land :  there  may  have 
been  a  reference  here  to  the  fact,  that, 
in  reward  of  his  noble  confession  of 
Christ,  Peter  was  entrusted  with  the 
opening  the  Church  to  the  Gentiles  :  he 
it  was,  who,  instructed  by  a  vision  from 
God,  admitted  by  baptism  Cornelius 
and  his  friends  to  the  privileges  of 
Christianity.  For  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  in  this  second  miraculous 
draught  of  fishes,  there  was  a  special 
reference  to  the  combining  of  all  na- 
tions in  the  visible  Church.  The  num- 
ber of  fishes  is  to   be   carefully  noted  ; 


148 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


an  hundred  and  fifty  and  three  ;  and  so 
also  is  the  remark  of  the  Evangelist, 
"  And  for  all  there  were  so  many,  yet 
was  not  the  net  broken."  As  to  the 
number,  it  appears  that  one  hundred 
and  fifty  and  three  was  exactly  the  num- 
ber of  kinds,  or  varieties  of  fish  then 
known;  so  that  we  may  most  justly 
conclude  that  the  number  was  an  indi- 
cation that  persons  of  all  nations  and 
conditions  should  enter  into  the  Church. 
And  then  the  remark  as  to  the  net  not 
being  broken,  though  it  inclosed  so 
many  fish,  must  be  considered  as  pro- 
phetic of  the  capacity  of  the  Christian 
Church  ;  unlike  the  Jewish,  which  was 
not  constructed  for  enlargement  and  ex- 
tension, the  Christian  Church  might  em- 
brace the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  not  be 
overcharged,  whatever  the  multitude 
and  variety  of  converts.  So  far,  there 
is  little  difficulty  in  assigning  the  para- 
bolic character  of  the  narrative  before 
us ;  every  one  may  readily  follow  the 
facts,  and  be  aware  of  their  typical  im- 
port. 

But,  now,  we  come  again  to  the  "  fire 
of  coals,"  and  the  prepared  repast — 
what  truths  did  these  symbolically  teach, 
when  taken,  as  they  must  be,  in  imme- 
diate connection  with  the  other  figura- 
tive facts  1  My  brethren,  you  are  to 
observe  and  remember,  that  the  Jewish 
and  the  Christian  dispensations  are  not 
so  truly  distinct  and  detached  economies, 
as  component  parts  of  one  great  plan 
and  arrangement.  There  have  never 
been  two  ways  in  which  sinners  might 
be  saved  :  in  the  Old  Testament,  as  in 
the  New,  "  everlasting  life  is  offered  to 
mankind  by  Christ,  who  is  the  only  Me- 
diator between  God  and  man,  being  both 
God  and  man."  In  the  New  Testament, 
indeed,  we  have  the  clearer  exposition 
of  the  great  scheme  of  mercy:  God's 
wondrous  purpose  of  saving  the  Church 
through  the  sacrifice  of  His  only-begot- 
ten Son  is  there  set  forth  with  a  fulness 
and  precision,  which  it  were  vain  to 
seek  in  the  writings  of  the  Old.  Never- 
theless, there  is  no  difference  whatso- 
ever in  the  doctrine  propounded,  but 
only  in  the  measure  of  its  revelation  ; 
and,  however  great  the  change  which 
was  made  through  the  coming  of  Christ, 
when  external  distinctions  were  swept 
away,  and  life  and  immortality  especial- 
ly brought  to  light,  there  still  went  on 
the  original  process  for  the  deliverance 


of  the  fallen  race  of  man.  The  process 
was  but  continued,  though  with  less  of 
vail  and  obscurity;  and  they  who  were 
the  first  inclosed  within  what  might  in 
strictness  be  styled  the  Gospel  net,  were 
caught — to  keep  up  the  metaphor — 
within  the  same  meshes,  and  drawn  to 
shore  through  the  same  instrumentality, 
as  men  of  olden  times,  the  righteous 
who  obtained  eternal  life  by  the  assist- 
ance of  the  patriarchal,  or  of  the  legal 
dispensation. 

But  let  us  see  whether  this  srreat 
truth  may  not  have  been  figuratively 
taught  by  the  facts  of  which  we  are  en- 
deavoring to  find  an  explanation.  There 
was  already  a  fire  kindled,  when  the 
Apostles  dragged  to  shore  the  net  which 
specially  represented  the  Christian 
Church,  the  Church,  that  is,  as  it  was 
to  subsist  in  its  expanded  form,  subse- 
quently to  the  coming  of  Christ.  And 
on  the  fire  which  was  thus  burning, 
there  were  fish  already  laid  :  yea,  and 
the  first  direction  to  the  Apostles  was 
that  they  should  bring  of  the  fish  which 
had  just  been  caught,  and  add  them  t( 
those  which  were  already  on  the  coals 
Now,  since  by  the  fish  of  all  kinds 
which  the  net  inclosed,  we  are  undnubt 
edly  to  understand  the  members  of  the 
Church,  under  the  Gospel  dispensation, 
ought  we  not  to  understand,  by  the  fish 
already  on  the  coals,  the  members  of  the 
Church  under  the  Jewish  dispensation  ] 
This  is  nothing  but  preserving,  or  keep- 
ing up  the  metaphor.  If  the  fish  just 
caught  represented  the  converts  that 
would  be  made  by  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel,  the  fish  which  had  been  caught 
before,  and  not  by  those  who  now  drew 
the  net  to  land,  may — we  should  rather 
say,  must — represent  those  of  whom  the 
Church  had  been  composed  during  the 
ministrations  of  the  law.  So  that  the 
visible  Church  before  Christ  was  figured 
by  the  fish  already  on  the  coals,  the 
visible  Church  after  Christ  by  the  fish 
just  inclosed  in  the  net;  and  when  the 
newly-caught  fish  were  placed  on  the 
same  fire  with  those  which  had  been 
previously  secured,  was  it  not  shown 
that  the  visible  Church,  before  and  after 
the  coming  of  Christ,  was  virtually  but 
one  and  the  same  I  that  its  members,  at 
whatever  time  they  lived,  had  to  be 
brought  to  the  same  altar,  and  to  be  puri- 
fied by  the  same  flame  ?  I  know  not  why 
we  should  not  think  that  that  strange 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


119 


fire,  mysteriously  kindled  on  the  lonely 
shore,  was  typical  of  the  propitiatory 
work  of  the  Redeemer,  through  whom 
alone  the  men  of  any  age  can  he  pre- 
sented as  a  sacrifice  acceptable  unto 
God.  We  have  all  to  be  laid  upon  an 
altar ;  we  have  all,  as  it  were,  to  be 
subjected  to  the  action  of  fire  :  but 
there  is  no  altar  but  the  one  Mediator, 
and  no  fire  but  that  of  his  one  great  ob- 
lation, which  will  answer  for  those  who 
seek  to  consecrate  themselves,  a  whole 
burnt  offering,  to  their  Creator  in  hea- 
ven. 

And  what  could  be  a  more  lively 
parable  of  this  fact,  than  that,  just  be- 
fore his  departui'e  from  earth,  when 
standing  on  the  margin  of  the  sea,  the 
separating-line,  so  to  speak,  between 
time  and  eternity,  Christ  caused  an 
altar  to  rise,  mysterious  as  Himself — for 
no  human  hands  reared  it, — and  crown- 
ed it  with  burning  coals,  which  had  not 
been  kindled  by  any  earthly  name  ;  and 
then  brought  about  that  there  should  be 
placed  on  this  sacred  and  significant 
fire  representatives  of  the  one  visible 
Church,  as  it  had  subsisted  before  his 
incarnation,  and  as  it  was  to  subsist  till 
He  should  come  the  second  time  to 
judgment  l 

It  seems  to  have  been  a  lesson  pecu- 
liarly needed  by  the  Apostles,  that  they 
were  but  following  up  the  labors  of  the 
men  of  earlier  times  ;  that  they  were 
not  to  consider  themselves  as  going 
forth  on  a  new  mission,  of  which  no  no- 
tices had  been  previously  issued;  but 
rather  as  charged  with  the  fresh  pro- 
clamation of  truths  which  had  been  con- 
tinuously, though  more  obscurely,  an- 
nounced. There  was  naturally  great 
likelihood  that  the  first  preachers  of 
Christianity,  having  to  publish  the  won- 
drous and  startling  facts  of  Christ's 
birth,  and  death,  and  resurrection,  would 
overlook  the  close  connection  between 
the  old  and  the  new  dispensation.  Ac- 
cordingly Christ  had  forcibly  reminded 
them  of  it  when  He  said,  "  Herein  is 
that  saying  true,  One  soweth,  and  ano- 
ther reapeth.  I  sent  you  to  reap  that" 
whereon  ye  bestowed  no  labor;  other 
men  labored,  and  ye  are  entered  into  their 
labors."  And  now  he  repeats  something 
of  the  same  lesson,  conveying  it,  not 
through  words,  but  through  expressive 
emblems  or  figures.  He  gives  them  a 
miraculous  draught  of  fishes  :  and  for- 


asmuch as  He  had  before,  in  a  parable, 
likened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  a  net 
which  gathered  of  all  kinds,  they  would 
naturally  consider  these  fishes  as  repre- 
senting the  converts  to  the  Christian  re- 
ligion. But  they  were  not  to  suppose 
that  these  converts  formed  a  separate 
body,  or  were  to  be  saved  by  different 
means,  from  the  servants  of  God  under 
earlier  dispensations.  The  Church  in 
all  ages  was  one,  and  one  also  was  the 
mode  of  deliverance.  How  shall  this 
be  shown,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  lesson, 
or  rather  the  emblem  of  the  net  and  the 
draught ']  Indeed,  whether  the  Apos- 
tles understood  it  or  not  at  the  first,  we 
may  venture  to  say  that  the  truths,  that 
there  had  never  been  but  one  altar  for 
the  sinful,  never  but  one  cleansing,  con- 
secrating flame,  and  that  the  righteous, 
however  separated  by  time,  and  by  ex- 
ternal ordinances  and  privileges,  had 
communion  and  fellowship  in  one  and 
the  same  mystic  body, — that  these  truths 
could  not  have  been  more  significantly 
exhibited  to  them,  nor  more  consistently 
with  the  emblem  of  the  miraculous 
draught,  than  when,  "so  soon  as  they 
were  come  to  land,  they  saw  a  fire  of 
coals  there,  and  fish  laid  thereon  and 
bread,"  and  received  immediately  this 
direction  from  Christ,  "  Bring  of  the 
fish  which  ye  have  now  caught." 

Now  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  there 
is  any  part  of  the  remarkable  trans- 
action before  us  which  does  not  thus 
find  a  consistent  interpretation.  It 
is  true,  indeed,  that  we  have  made  no 
observation  on  there  having  been  bread 
as  well  as  fish  already  provided  ;  where- 
as the  Evangelist  is  careful  in  noting  it, 
and  in  afterwards  mentioning  that  our 
Lord  took  of  both,  of  the  bread  and 
the  fish,  and  gave  to  his  disciples.  But 
we  may  readily  allow  that  different  ends 
were  subserved  by  the  same  series  of 
facts  :  it  is  never  inquired,  in  the  in- 
terpretation of  a  parable,  whether  de- 
livered in  word  or  by  action,  that  every 
minute  particular  should  be  made  to 
shadow  forth  a  truth.  When  we  inter- 
preted the  facts  with  a  special  reference 
to  the  case  of  St.  Peter,  we  had  no  use 
to  make  either  of  the  fish,  or  of  the 
bread  :  but  we  do  not  on  that  account 
conclude  that  the  fire  of  coals  might 
not  have  been  instrumental,  or  might 
not  have  been  designed  as  instrumental, 
to  the  recalling  to  the  Apostle  the  cir- 


150 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE   SIIORI 


cumstances  of  his  fearful  apostasy.  In 
like  manner,  if  there  be  no  special  sig- 
nificance in  the  bread,  when  the  narra- 
tive is  applied  to  the  shadowing  out  the 
progress  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  one- 
ness of  the  Church  under  various  dis- 
pensations, we  do  not  think  this  any 
objection  to  the  fitness  of  the  applica- 
tion :  we  suppose  that  the  refreshment 
of  the  wearied  disciples  was  one  of  the 
purposes  for  which  the  fire  had  been 
kindled,  and  the  food  prepared ;  and 
there  was  use  for  the  bread  in  regard 
of  this  purpose,  if  not  of  any  other. 

Though  it  would  not  be  hard  to  believe 
that  the  fish  and  the  bread  were  com- 
bined with  a  higher  intent.  Christ,  you 
will  remember,  had  fed  a  great  multi- 
tude with  a  few  loaves  and  fishes,  typi- 
fying how  the  truths  and  doctrines  of 
his  religion  should  suffice  for  the  spirit 
ual  sustenance  of  the  world.  The  dis 
ciples  would  naturally  be  reminded  of 
this  miracle,  when  Jesus  again  took 
bread  and  fish,  and  distributed  amongst 
them — reminded  too  (and  what  parting 
lesson  could  be  mure  important  1)  that 
the  food  which  Christ  delivered  to  them 
as  spiritual  pastors,  would  be  an  abun- 
dant provision  for  the  men  of  all  ages 
and  countries. 

But,  now,  considering  that  a  sufficient 
and  consistent  interpretation  has  been 
assigned  to  the  several  parts  of  the  nar- 
rative befoi'e  us,  we  would  show  you, 
in  conclusion,  into  how  beautiful  an  al- 
legory some  of  the  facts  may  be  wrought, 
when  a  broader  view  is  taken,  one 
which  shall  more  distinctly  comprehend 
ourselves.  We  would  not,  indeed, 
claim,  for  what  we  have  now  to  advance, 
the  character  of  an  explanation,  or  in- 
terpretation, of  the  significative  circum- 
stances— it  is  at  best  but  an  accommo- 
dation of  the  parable  :  but  when  a  por- 
tion of  Scripture  has  been  expounded, 
as  if  relating  rather  to  others  than  to 
ourselves,  it  is  both  lawful  and  useful  to 
search  for  some  personal  application, 
that  we  may  feel  our  own  interest,  and 
find  our  own  profit,  in  the  passage  re- 
viewed. 

It  is  a  natural  and  appropriate  simile 
which  likens  life  to  a  voyage,  a  voyage 
which  has  variety  of  terminations — 
sometimes  in  calm,  sometimes  in  storm; 
the  vessel,  in  one  case,  casting  anchor 
in  placid  waters,  so  that  the  spirit  has 
but,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  to 


step  gently  ashore ;  in  another,  suffer- 
ing shipwreck,  so  that  there  is  fearful 
strife  and  peril  in  escaping  from  the 
waves.  We  shall  all  reach  the  shore  ot 
another  world  :  for  though  some  may 
be  said  to  be  thrown  violently  on  that 
shore,  whilst  others  are  landed  on  it,  as 
though  by  the  kind  ministry  of  angels, 
none  can  perish  as  if  existence  might 
terminate  at  death  ;  of  all  it  will  have 
to  be  said,  as  of  those  with  St.  Paul 
in  the  ship,  some  by  swimming,  some 
on  boards,  and  some  on  broken  pieces 
of  the  ship,  "  it  came  to  pass  that 
they  escaped  all  safe  to  land." 

And  there  is  something  of  a  delinea- 
tion of  this  variety  of  modes  of  death, 
in  Peter's  struggling  through  the  water, 
whilst  the  other  disciples  approach  the 
shore  in  their  boat.  Peter's  is  the  vio- 
lent death,  the  death  of  the  martyr ;  but 
his  companions  find  a  gentler  dismissal 
from  the  flesh  ;  theirs  is  the  natural 
death,  death  with  fewer  of  the  accom- 
paniments which  invest  the  last  act  with 
terror  and  awfulness.  Yet,  die  when 
we  will,  and  how  we  will,  there  is  a 
mysteriousness  about  the  moment  of 
dissolution,  which  must  cause  it  to  be 
expected  with  some  measure  of  fear 
and  apprehension.  The  passing  in  that 
moment  from  time  to  eternity — the  be- 
coming in  that  instant  a  disembodied 
spirit,  a  naked,  unclothed  soul,  launched 
upon  an  unknown  scene,  with  none  of 
the  instruments  heretofore  employed  for 
the  ingathering  of  knowledge,  or  the 
communication  of  thought — oh,  who 
ever  marked,  so  far  as  it  can  be  mark- 
ed, the  noiseless  flitting  away  of  man's 
immortal  part,  without  experiencing  a 
painful  inquisitiveness  as  to  what  had 
become  of  that  part,  as  to  where  it 
was,  as  to  what  it  saw,  as  to  what 
it  heard  'I  There  may  be  a  thorough 
assurance  that  the  soul  has  gone  to 
be  with  the  Lord  ;  but  whilst  this  de- 
stroys all  anxiety  on  its  account,  it 
does  not,  cannot,  repress  the  striving 
of  the  mind  to  follow  it  in  its  flight,  the 
intense  gaze  at  the  folds  of  the  vail 
which  hangs  between  the  present,  world 
and  the  future,  as  if  it  must  have  been 
so  far  withdrawn  for  the  admission  of 
the  spirit  just  freed  from  flesh,  that  some 
glimpse  might  be  caught  by  the  watch- 
ful of  the  unexplored  region  beyond. 

But  in  vain  this  striving  of  the  mind, 
this   intenseness  of  the    gaze.     Whilst 


THE  FIRE  ON  THE  SHORE. 


151 


we  live,  it  is  as  ati  infinite  desert,  which 
no  thought  can  traverse,  that  separates 
the  two  worlds;  though,  when  we  come 
to  die,  it  will  be  found  but  a  line,  like 
that  which  the  last  wave  leaves  on  a  sandy 
shore.  Let  it  satisfy  us,  in  the  mean- 
while,  that  whatever  the  mode  in  which 
the  soul  of  the  righteous  is  dismissed — 
whether  that  mode  be  imaged  in  Peter's 
casting  himself  into  the  sea,  and  strug- 
gling to  the  land,  or  whether  it  be  re- 
presented in  the  quieter  approaehings 
of  the  boat  with  the  other  disciples — 
the  soul  will  find  preparation,  as  it  were, 
for  its  reception  :  Christ  stands  upon  the 
shore,  expecting  his  faithful  servants ; 
and  of  all  of  them  it  will  have  to  be 
said,  in  the  words  of  our  text,  "  As  soon 
as  they  were  come  to  land,  they  saw  a 
fire  of  coals  there,  and  fish  laid  thereon, 
and  bread."  Oh,  this  may  well  shadow 
out,  what  we  have  abundant  warrant  for 
believing  from  more  express  statements 
of  Scripture,  that,  to  the  faithful  in 
Christ,  the  moment  of  being  detached 
from  the  body  is  the  moment  of  being 
admitted  into  happiness.  "  As  soon  as 
they  were  come  to  land  " — no  delay,  no 
interval — all  that  was  needed  was  found 
ready  ;  the  fire  kindled,  and  the  banquet 
spread. 

Yet  who  doubts  that  the  righteous 
will  not  only  find  the  material  of  happi- 
ness prepared,  but  that  they  will  carry 
with  them,  so  to  speak,  additions  to  that 


material,  and  make  heaven  all  the  richer 
and  the  brighter  by  their  arrival  1  It  is 
"  the  communion  of  saints  ;  "  and  whilst 
each  saint  shall  draw  cause  of  rapture 
from  those  who  have  gone  before,  they 
also  shall  draw  cause  of  rapture  from 
him.  Ah,  then,  how  beautifully  appo- 
site the  direction,  "  Bring  of  the  fish 
which  ye  have  now  caught."  The  ban- 
quet, the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb, 
shall  be  furnished  from  the  contributions 
of  every  generation  ;  all  that  any  man, 
in  any  age,  has  been  enabled  to  accom- 
plish in  works  of  righteousness  and 
faith,  every  spiritual  battle  won,  every 
convert  made,  shall  be  mingled  in  that 
vast  stoi-e  of  happiness,  of  which  the  glo- 
rified Church  shall  everlastingly  partake. 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in 
the  Lord  :  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that 
they  may  rest  from  their  labors  ;  and 
their  works  do  follow  them."  They 
"  rest  from  their  labors,"  in  that,  as  soon 
as  they  come  to  land,  they  see  a  fire  of 
coals  there,  and  fish  laid  thereon,  and 
bread  :  "  their  works  do  follow  them," 
in  that  they  are  thfcn  bidden  to  bring  of 
the  fish  which  they  have  caught.  Oh, 
that  we  may  all  so  labor  during  life,  that 
hereafter,  when  judged,  as  we  must  be, 
by  our  works,  there  may  be  found,  not 
indeed — what  can  never  be — a  claim  to 
the  happiness  of  heaven,  but  an  evi- 
dence of  our  having  loved  the  Lord  Je 
sus  in  sincerity  and  truth. 


152 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


SERMON    III 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


And  he  seudeth  forth  two  of  his  disciples,  and  saith  unto  them,  Go  ye  into  the  city,  and  there  shall  meet  you  a  maa 
bearin?  a  pitcher  of  water :  follow  him.  And  wheresoever  he  shall  go  in,  say  ye  to  the  good  man  of  the  house. 
The  Master  sailh,  Where  is  the  guest-chamber,  where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my  disciples?  And  he  will 
shew  j  ou  a  large  upper  room  furnished  and  prepared  :  there  make  ready  for  us." — St.  Mark,  xiv.  13,  14,  15. 


The  time  was  now  at  hand  when  our 
Lord  was  to  complete,  by  the  sacrifice 
of  Himself,  the  great  work  for  which 
He  had  taken  upon  Him  our  nature. 
He  had  wrought  miracle  upon  miracle, 
in  evidence  of  a  divine  commission  ;  and 
He  had  delivered  discourse  upon  dis- 
course, in  illustration  of  the  dispensation 
which  he  had  come  to  introduce.  But 
without  shedding  of  blood  there  could 
he  no  remission  of  sin ;  and  all  his  ac- 
tions, and  sermons,  had  been  but  pre- 
paratory to  a  wondrous  and  fearful  oc- 
currence, the  surrender  of  Himself  to 
the  will  of  his  enemies,  to  the  death  of 
a  malefactor. 

The  disciples  should  have  been  aware 
— for  Christ  gave  them  frequent  warn- 
ing— that  the  time  of  separation  from 
their  Master  was  almost  arrived,  and 
that  the  separation  would  be  effected  in 
a  manner  most  trying  to  their  faith. 
Yet, they  appear  to  have  closed  their 
eyes,  in  a  great  degree,  to  the  coming 
events  :  after  all  which  had  been  done 
to  prepare  them,  they  were  taken  by 
surprise,  and  seemed  as  bewildered  and 
confounded  by  what  befel  Christ,  as 
though  He  had  not,  in  the  most  express 
terms,  forewarned  them  of  his  crucifix- 
ion and  burial.  This  arose  from  their 
unbelief  and  hardness  of  heart  :  they 
had  not  yet  divested  themselves  of  the 
thought  and  hope  of  a  temporal  king- 
dom ;  and,  whatever  the  process  by 
which  they  contrived  to  explain  away, 
or  hide  from  themselves,  the  clear  state- 
ments of  our  Lord,  it  is  manifest  that 
they  had  virtually  no  expectation  that 
Christ    would  be    nailed    to   the  cross, 


and  that  his  dying  this  shameful  death 
passed  with  them  as  well-nigh  a  proof, 
that  He  could  not  be  the  deliverer  pro- 
mised unto  Israel. 

But  it  is  beautiful  to  observe  what 
pains,  so  to  speak,  were  taken  by  the 
compassionate  Savior  to  fortify  the  dis- 
ciples, to  arm  them  for  the  approaching 
days  of  temptation  and  disaster.  We 
have  at  other  times  shown  you  how  this 
tender  consideration  for  his  followers 
may  be  traced  in  the  arrangements 
which  He  made  for  his  last  entry  into 
Jerusalem,  in  accomplishment  of  the 
prophecy  of  Zechariah,  that  her  King 
should  come  to  Zion,  sitting  upon  an 
ass,  and  upon  a  colt  the  foal  of  an  ass. 
It  was  in  a  strange  and  circuitous  way 
that  Christ  provided  Himself  with  the 
animal  on  which  He  was  to  ride.  He 
sent  two  of  his  disciples  to  a  particular 
spot,  informing  them  that  they  should 
there  find  an  ass  and  a  colt.  He  direct- 
ed them  to  take  possession  of  these  ani- 
mals, and  lead  them  away,  as  though 
they  had  been  their  own.  He  furnished 
them  with  certain  words,  in  reply  to 
any  remonstrance  which  the  owners 
might  make,  and  assured  them  that 
these  words  would  induce  the  owners 
to  part  with  their  property.  How  sin- 
gular, how  intricate  a  mode  of  obtaining, 
what  probably  would  have  been  brought 
Him,  had  He  merely  mentioned  his 
wish  to  any  one  in  the  multitude.  But 
was  there  not  good  reason  for  his  pre- 
ferring this  circuitous  method  1  We 
may  be  sure  there  was ;  even  as,  when 
the  tribute  money  had  to  be  paid, 'there 
was  good  reason  for  his  sending  Peter 


THE   FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


153 


to  the  sea,  and  making  him  find  the 
piece  of  money  in  the  month  of  the  fish 
which  he  first  caught,  in  place  of  pro- 
ducing, as  He  might  have  done,  the 
money  at  once,  divesting  the  miracle  of 
all  intricate  accompaniments.  And 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  assigning  reasons 
for  the  method  which  our  Lord  took  to 
procure  the  humble  equipage  of  which 
He  had  need.  The  foreknowledge 
which  He  displayed  as  to  mean  and  in- 
considerable things,  such  as  the  ass  and 
her  colt ;  the  influence  which,  though 
at  a  distance,  He  put  forth  upon  the 
owners,  inducing  them  to  part  with  their 
property, — these  surely  were  calculated 
to  convince  the  disciples  (and  upon  no 
point,  at  that  moment,  had  they  greater 
need  of  assurance)  that  Christ  would 
have  his  eye  upon  them  in  their  poverty 
and  distress,  and  that  his  not  being  visi- 
bly present,  would  in  no  degree  inter- 
fere with  his  power  of  subduing  his  ene- 
mies, and  sustaining  his  friends. 

But  our  Lord  was  not  content  with 
having,  in  this  signal  instance,  furnished 
his  followers  with  such  evidences  of  his 
prescience  and  power,  as  were  most 
adapted  to  prepare  them  for  the  on- 
coming trial.  In  the  course  of  a  very 
few  days,  and  when  the  time  of  his  cru- 
cifixion was  close  at  hand,  He  took  a 
similar  roundabout  way  of  obtaining 
what  He  needed,  with  the  intent,  as  we 
may  believe,  of  again  impressing  on  the 
disciples  the  truths  which  would  best 
support  them  in  their  approaching  tri- 
bulation. Our  Lord  was  now  in  Betha- 
ny, in  the  confines  of  Jerusalem,  await- 
ing the  final  act  of  rejection  by  the 
Jews.  The  first  day  of  the  feast  of  un- 
leavened bread  having  arrived,  the  dis- 
ciples came  to  Him,  saying,  "  Where 
wilt  thou  that  we  go  and  prepare,  that 
thou  mayest  eat  the  passover  1  " 
This  was  a  very  simple  question,  sup- 
posing, as  was  undoubtedly  the  case, 
that  Christ  had  determined  in  what 
house  he  would  partake  of  the  last  sup- 
per with  his  followers.  And  He  might 
have  delivered  a  very  simple  answer, 
indicating  the  street  in  the  city,  and  the 
name  of  the  householder.  This  is  what 
would  most  naturally  have  been  done 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  our 
Lord,  as  you  will  observe,  took  a  wholly 
different  course.  In  place  of  a  simple 
answer,  He  gave  the  most  complicated 
directions.     He  tells  his  disciples  to  go 


into  the  city,  mentioning  no  particular 
quarter,  but  bidding  them  proceed  till 
they  should  meet  a  man  carrying  a 
pitcher  of  water.  They  were  to  follow 
this  man — not  to  speak  to  him,  with  the 
view  of  ascertaining  whether  he  were 
the  right  person  to  follow — but  to  fol- 
low him,  and  to  enter  any  house  into 
which  he  might  go.  They  were  then 
to  accost  the  master  of  this  house — not, 
as  it  would  appear,  the  same  person  as 
they  had  been  following — but  they  were 
to  accost  him  without  ceremony,  in  an 
abrupt  manner,  as  making  a  claim,  ra- 
ther than  as  preferring  a  request.  "  The 
Master  saith,  Where  is  the  guest-cham- 
ber, whei-e  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with 
my  disciples  ]  "  Christ  assured  his  mes- 
sengers, that,  upon  this,  a  large  upper 
room  would  be  shown  them,  "  furnished 
and  prepared."  Thus,  accordingly,  it 
came  to  pass.  We  read  in  the  next 
verse,  "  His  disciples  went  forth,  and 
came  into  the  city,  and  found  as  He  had 
said  unto  them." 

But  you  can  hardly  read  of  so  intri- 
cate a  way  of  doing  a  simple  thing,  and 
not  ask — -as  in  regard  of  the  mode  of 
obtaining  the  ass  and  the  colt — why  did 
our  Lord  take  so  roundabout  a  method  ] 
why  did  He  not  go  more  directly  to  his 
end  ?  We  may  be  sure  that  there  were 
good  reasons  :  these  reasons,  we  may 
believe,  are  still  to  be  found  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  disciples,  and  in  the 
desire  of  Christ  to  strengthen  them  for 
the  trial  which  was  now  close  at  hand  ; 
and  we  invite  you  to  an  attentive  sur- 
vey of  the  several  particulars  specified 
in  our  text,  that  you  may  the  better 
judge  whether  it  was  not  with  a  wise 
and  tender  regard  for  those  from  whom 
He  was  so  soon  to  be  separated,  that 
Jesus,  in  place  of  sending  Peter  and 
John  direct  to  the  house  where  He  de- 
signed to  eat  the  passover,  bade  them 
go  into  the  city,  and  look  out  for,  and 
follow,  "  a  man  bearing  a  pitcher  of 
water." 

Now,  let  the  preparation  have  been 
ever  so  labored  and  explicit,  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  it  was  a  great  trial  of 
faith  which  the  disciples  were  about  to 
undergo,  in  beholding  their  Master  given 
up  to  the  wiles  of  his  enemies,  and  in 
being  themselves  exposed  to  fierce  per- 
secution. Even  had  they  thoroughly 
understood,  and  apprehended,  the  pre- 
dictions of  Christ  in  regard  of  his  own 


154 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


betrayal  and  death,  it  could  not  have 
been  other  than  a  terrible  shock,  a  shock 
calculated  to  overthrow  all  but  the  very 
firmest  trust,  when  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness seemed  to  triumph,  and  evil  angels, 
and  evil  men,  prevailed  against  right- 
eousness. It  must  then  have  been  a 
great  thing  for  the  disciples,  that  faith 
should  he  kept  in  exercise  up  to  the 
very  time  when  so  vast  a  demand 
was  to  be  made  upon  its  energies;  for, 
assuredly,  in  proportion  as  faith  was  left 
inactive  till  summoned  to  face  the  shame 
of  the  cross,  woud  be  the  likelihood  of 
its  then  giving  way,  as  not  having  been 
practised  in  lesser  encounters.  Faith, 
like  other  powers,  is  strengthened 
through  use;  and  every  believer  must 
feel,  that  if,  after  a  long  period  of  com- 
parative peace  and  security,  he  is  sud- 
denly met  by  an  extraordinary  onset  of 
trial,  there  is  much  greater  risk  of  his 
being  confounded  and  overborne,  than 
if  the  extraordinary  onset  were  to  come 
after  a  lengthened  series  of  less  virulent 
assaults.  The  spiritual  arm,  as  well  as 
the  bodily,  becomes  fitted  for  encounter 
with  the  giant,  through  frequent  encoun- 
ters with  formidable,  but  not  as  formid- 
able, adversaries;  though  either,  if  ex- 
posed, without  this  previous  discipline, 
to  a  contest  with  Goliath  of  Gath,  might 
prove  wholly  insufficient,  and  give  way 
at  once,  having  scarce  attempted  the 
battle.  It  was  after  having  met  the  lion 
and  the  bear,  that  David  went  forth  to 
meet  the  uncircumcised   Philistine. 

And  we  might  expect  that  Christ, 
knowing  to  how  great  effort  the  faith  of 
his  followers  was  about  to  be  called, 
would,  in  his  compassionate  earnestness 
for  their  welfare,  keep  their  faith  in  ex- 
ercise up  to  the  moment  of  the  dreaded 
separation.  He  would  find, or  make  occa- 
sions for  trying  and  testing  the  princi- 
ples which  were  soon  to  be  brought 
to  so  stern  a  proof.  Did  He  do  this  1 
and  how  did  he  do  it  1  We  regard  the 
circumstances  which  are  now  under  re- 
view, those  connected  with  the  finding 
the  guest-chamber  in  which  the  last  sup- 
per might  be  oaten,  as  an  evidence  and 
illustration  of  Christ's  exercising  the 
faith  of  his  disciples. 

Was  it  not  exercising  the  faith  of 
Peter  and  John — for  these,  the  more 
distinguished  of  the  disciples,  were  em- 
ployed on  the  errand — to  send  them  in- 
to the  city  with  such  strange  and  desul- 


tory directions  1  How  natural  for  them 
to  have  said,  why  not  tell  us  at  once  the 
house  to  which  we  are  to  go  ]  we  shall 
perhaps  meet  a  dozen  men,  each  bear- 
ing ;i  pitcher  of  water;  we  are  as  likely 
to  follow  the  wrong  as  the  right ;  and 
as  to  entering  a  stranger's  house,  and 
abrubtly  requiring  him  to  show  us  the 
guest-chamber,  how  improbable  is  it 
that  we  shall  meet  with  any  thing  but 
insult,  insult  which  will  really  be  de- 
served, considering  that  we  shall  have 
taken  an  inexcusable  liberty.  There 
were  so  many  chances,  if  the  word  may 
be  used,  against  the  guest-chamber  be- 
ing found  through  the  circuitous  method 
prescribed  by  our  Lord,  that  we  could 
not  have  wondered,  had  Peter  and  John 
shown  reluctance  to  obey  his  command. 
And  we  do  not  doubt  that  what  are 
called  the  chances,  were  purposely  mul- 
tiplied by  Christ,  to  make  the  finding 
the  room  seem  more  improbable,  and 
therefore  to  give  faith  the  greater  exer- 
cise. It  could  be  no  unusual  thing  for 
a  man  to  be  carrying  a  pitcher  of  water 
— Christ  might  have  given  some  more 
remarkable  sign.  But  it  was  its  not  be- 
ing remarkable  which  made  place  for 
faith.  Again,  there  would  have  been 
risk  enough  of  mistake  or  repulse,  in 
accosting  the  man  with  the  pitcher  : 
but  this  man  was  only  to  be  followed; 
and  he  might  stop  at  many  houses  be- 
fore he  reached  the  right ;  and  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  might  be  from  home — 
how  many  contingencies  might  have 
been  avoided,  if  Christ  would  but  have 
•riven  more  explicit  directions.  But 
Christ  would  not  be  more  explicit,  be- 
cause, in  proportion  as  He  had  been 
more  explicit,  there  would  have  been 
less  exercise  for  faith. 

And  if  you  imagine  that,  after  all,  it 
was  no  great  demand  on  the  faith  of 
Peter  and  John,  that  they  should  go  on 
so  vague  an  errand — for  that  much  did 
not  hinge  on  their  finding  the  right 
place,  and  they  had  but  to  return,  if 
any  thing  went  wrong — we  are  altogeth- 
er at  issue  with  you.  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  maintaining,  that  any  one  of  you 
would  have  been  loath  to  go  into  Jeru- 
salem for  such  a  purpose,  and  with  such 
directions  ;  ay,  more  loath  than  to  un- 
dertake some  signal  enterprise,  manifest- 
ly requiring  high  courage  and  fortitude. 
There  was  something  that  looked  de- 
grading and   ignoble   in  the  errand — 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER, 


155 


men  who  could  work  miracles,  and  who 
had  been  with  Christ  when  transfigured, 
being  sent  to  look  about  the  streets  for 
a  man  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water,  and 
to  enter  a  stranger's  house  where  they 
were  only  likely  to  meet  rudeness. 

And  the  apparent  meanness  of  an  em- 
ployment will  often  try  faith  more  than 
its  apparent  difficulty  ;  the  exposure  to 
ridicule  and  contempt  will  require 
greater  moral  nerve  than  the  exposure 
to  danger  and  death.  How  should  it 
be  otherwise,  when  genuine  humility  is 
among  the  hardest  things  to  acquire 
and  maintain  :  and  when,  consequently, 
whatsoever  goes  directly  to  the  morti- 
fying pride  will  more  touch  men  to  the 
quick,  than  any  amount  of  effort,  or  of 
sacrifice,  round  which  may  be  thrown 
something  of  a  lofty  or  chivalrous  as- 
pect 1  Oh,  do  not  tell  us  of  great  faith 
as  required  only  for  the  following  Christ 
bearing  his  cross — there  was  great  faith 
required  also  for  the  following  the  man 
bearing  the  pitcher.  Tell  us  not  of  its 
being  a  hard  task  to  go  in  unto  Pharaoh, 
and  to  say,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Let 
my  people  go ;  "  it  was  a  hard  task 
also  to  go  in  unto  the  stranger,  and  say, 
"  Thus  saith  the  Master,  Where  is  the 
guest-chamber  1  " 

We  believe  that  it  is  very  frequently 
ordered  that  faith  should  be  disciplined 
and  nurtured  for  its  hardest  endurances, 
and  its  highest  achievements,  through 
exposure  to  petty  inconveniences,  col- 
lisions with  mere  rudeness,  the  obloquy 
of  the  proud,  the  sneer  of  the  super- 
cilious, and  the  incivility  of  the  ignorant. 
Men  have  looked  wonderingly,  as  some 
unflinching  confessor,  some  candidate 
for  the  bloody  crown  of  martyrdom,  has 
stepped  forth  from  ranks  which  had 
only  simple  duties  to  discharge,  and 
common  trials  to  face,  and  displayed  a 
constancy,  and  a  courage,  surpassing 
those  exhibited  by  Christians  trained  in 
higher  schools  of  experience.  But  they 
have  forgotten,  or  they  have  not  known, 
that  no  where  is  faith  so  well  disciplined 
as  in  humble  occupations,  that  it  grows 
great  through  little  tasks,  and  may  be 
more  exercised  by'  being  kept  to  the 
menial  business  of  a  servant,  than  by 
being  summoned  to  the  lofty  standing 
of  a  leader.  They  have  forgotten,  or 
they  have  not  known,  that  the  uncour- 
teous  repulses,  the  ungracious  slights, 
the   contemptuous  insults,    to    which  a 


Christian  may  be  exposed  in  acting  out 
his  Christianity  in  every-day  life,  and 
amid  the  most  common-place  circum- 
stances, put  his  principles  to  severe 
proof,  or  keep  them  in  full  work  ;  and 
that  the  very  fact  of  his  having  moved 
in  so  humble  a  sphere,  and  been  plied 
with  trials  so  unostentatious  and  petty, 
has  had  a  direct  tendency  to  the  harden- 
ing him  for  conflict,  ay,  though  it  might 
be  with  "principalities  and  powers." 

And  it  seems  to  us  that  Christ  was 
practically  teaching,  and  illustrating  all 
this,  in  the  course  which  he  took  with 
his  disciples,  as  the  time  of  their  great 
trial  drew  near.  We  may  justly  assume 
that  He  sought  to  prepare  them  for  this 
trial,  that  it  was  his  .object  to  keep  their 
faith  exercised,  that  the  likelihood  might 
be  less  of  its  giving  way  at  the  last. 
And  his  method  of  exercise  was  by 
employing  them  on  errands  which  threat- 
ened to  be  fruitless,  and  seemed  to  be 
degrading.  Five  days  before  his  cruci- 
fixion, He  sends  two  disciples  to  look 
for  an  ass  and  a  colt,  where  they  were 
perhaps  little  likely  to  be  found,  and  to 
remove  them  at  the  risk  of  being  regard- 
ed as  robbers,  and  therefore  treated 
with  insult  or  violence.  And  now  two 
days  before  his  crucifixion,  He  sends 
two  disciples  to  find  him  a  place  where 
He  may  celebrate  the  passover;  but  He 
seems  to  take  pains,  not  only  to  avoid 
the  being  simple  in  his  directions,  but 
to  make  those  directions  involve  as 
many  probabilities  as  possible  of  what 
would  be  irksome  and  unpleasant,  as 
much  exposure  as  possible  to  mistake, 
repulse,  contempt — the  very  things 
from  which  men  are  most  ready  to 
shrink — for  He  bids  his  disciples  walk 
the  city  till  they  meet  a  man  bearing  a 
pitcher  of  water,  follow  that  man,  enter 
any  house  into  which  he  might  go,  and 
accost  the  master  of  the  house  with  the 
unceremonious  message,  "  The  Master 
saith,  Where  is  the  guest-chamber, 
where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my 
disciples  1  " 

We  should,  however,  be  taking  only 
a  contracted  view  of  the  circumstances 
before  us,  if  we  considered  them  merely 
with  reference  to  an  exercise  of  faith, 
as  though  Christ's  only  object  had  been 
the  disciplining  his  disciples  for  the 
shame  of  the  cross,  by  employing  them 
on  errands  from  which  their  pride  would 
revolt.     That  this  was  one  great  object, 


156 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


we  think  it  lawful  to  infer,  as  well  from 
the  nature  of  the  case,  as  from  the  re- 
semblance of  the  proceeding  to  that 
which  had  occurred  but  three  days  be- 
ftn-e,  when  the  two  disciples  were  dis- 
patched for  the  ass  and  the  colt.  You 
can  hardly  fail  to  admit,  that  the  same 
principle  must  have  been  at  work  in  the 
two  cases — so  similarly  are  the  chances 
of  mistake  and  repulse  multiplied,  and, 
with  these,  the  chances  of  insult ;  our 
Lord  is  evidently  carrying  on  a  system, 
a  system,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
of  humiliating  errands,  as  though  He 
would  thereby  prepare  his  followers  to 
face  persecution  in  its  more  awful  forms. 

And  we  do  earnestly  desire  of  you  to 
bear  this  in  mind;  for  men,  who  are 
not  appointed  to  great  achievements  and 
endurances,  are  very  apt  to  feel  as  though 
there  were  not  enough,  in  the  trials  and 
duties  of  a  lowly  station,  for  the  nurture 
and  exercise  of  high  Christian  graces. 
Whereas,  if  it  were  by  merely  follow- 
ing a  man  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water 
that  Apostles  were  trained  for  the  worst 
onsets  of  evil,  there  may  be  no  such 
school  for  the  producing  strong  faith  as 
that  in  which  the  lessons  are  of  the  most 
every-day  kind.  It  is  a  remarkable  say- 
ing of  our  blessed  Lord,  "  If  any  man 
will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  him- 
self, and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and 
follow  me."  "  Take  up  his  cross  daily  " 
— then  there  is  a  cross  to  be  borne 
every  day  :  the  cross  is  not  to  be  carried 
only  on  great  occasions;  the  cross  is  to 
be  carried  daily  :  a  true  Christian  will 
find  the  cross,  nay,  cannot  miss  the 
cross,  in  the  events,  the  duties,  the 
trials,  of  every  day — else  how  is  he  to 
"  take  up  his  cross  daily  ?  "  how  to  fol- 
low Christ  daily  1  Ah,  we  are  too  apt 
to  think  that  taking  up  the  cross,  and 
following  Christ,  are  singular  things, 
things  for  peculiar  seasons  and  extraor- 
dinary circumstances.  Let  us  learn, 
and  let  us  remember,  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  may,  they  must,  be  of  every 
day  occurrence  ;  and  let  it  serve  to  ex- 
plain how  they  may  be  of  daily  occur- 
rence, that,  when  Christ  would  school 
his  disciples  to  face  the  perils  of  fol- 
lowing Him  as  He  ascended  Mount 
Calvary,  He  set  them  to  face  the  un- 
pleasantness of  following  a  man  bearing 
a  pitcher  of  water. 

But  there  is  more  than  this  to  be  said 
in  regad  of  the    complicated  way  in 


which  Christ  directed  his  disciples  to 
the  guest-chamber  where  He  had  de- 
termined to  eat  the  last  supper.  He 
was  not  only  exercising  the  faith  of  the 
disciples,  by  sending  them  on  an  errand 
which  seemed  unnecessarily  intricate, 
and  to  involve  great  exposure  to  insult 
and  repulse — He  was  giving  strong  evi- 
dence of  his  thorough  acquaintance  with 
every  thing  that  was  to  happen,  and  of 
his  power  over  the  minds  whether  of 
strangers  or  of  friends.  In  proportion 
as  there  seemed  a  great  many  chances 
against  the  right  room  being  found  by 
the  disciples,  was  the  proof,  as  you  must 
all  admit,  when  the  room  was  neverthe- 
less found,  that  the  prescience,  or  fore- 
knowledge, of  Christ  extended  to  mi- 
nute or  inconsiderable  particulars.  You 
must  consider  it  as  a  prophecy,  on  the 
part  of  Christ,  that  the  man  would  be 
met,  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water;  that, 
if  followed,  he  would  enter  the  light 
house  ;  that  the  master  of  this  house, 
on  being  asked  by  the  disciples,  would 
show  them  "  a  large  upper-room  furnish- 
ed and  prepared,"  where  they  might 
make  ready  for  the  eating  the  passover. 
But  it  was  a  prophecy  of  no  ordinary 
kind.  It  was  a  prophecy  which  seemed 
to  take  delight  in  putting  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  its  own  precise  accomplish- 
ment. It  would  not  have  been  accom- 
plished by  the  mere  finding  the  house 
— it  would  have  been  defeated,  had  the 
house  been  found  through  any  other 
means  than  the  meeting  the  man,  or  had 
the  man  been  discovered  through  any 
other  sign  than  the  pitcher  of  water  : 
yea,  and  it  would  have  been  defeated, 
defeated  in  the  details,  which  were 
given,  as  it  might  have  seemed,  with 
such  unnecessary  and  perilous  minute- 
ness, if  the  master  of  the  house  had 
made  the  least  objection,  or  if  it  had  not 
been  an  upper-room  which  he  showed 
the  disciples,  or  if  that  room  had  not 
been  large,  or  if  it  had  not  been  furnish- 
ed and  prepared.  If  Christ  had  merely 
sent  the  disciples  to  a  particular  house, 
telling  them  that  they  would  there  find 
a  guest-chamber,  there  might,  or  there 
might  not  have  been  prophecy ;  the 
master  of  the  house  might  have  been 
one  of  Christ's  adherents,  and  Christ 
might  previously  have  held  with  Him 
some  private  communication,  arranging 
for  the  celebration  of  the  passover.  But 
our  Lord    put    it    beyond    controversy 


THE  FINDIXG  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


1'j7 


that  there  was  no  pre-arranged  scheme, 
but  that  He  was  distinctly  exercising 
his  own  prophetic  power,  by  making 
the  whole  thing  turn  on  the  meeting  a 
man  with  a  pitcher  of  water.  For 
though  you  may  say  that  this  might 
have  been  part  of  a  plot  or  confederacy, 
our  Lord  having  agreed  with  the  house- 
holder that  his  servant  should  be  stand- 
ing, with  a  particular  burden,  at  a  par- 
ticular place,  and  at  a  particular  time, 
yet,  surely,  on  the  least  reflection,  you 
must  allow  that  no  sagacious  person, 
who  had  thought  it  worth  while  to  make 
a  plot  at  all,  would  have  made  one  so 
likely  to  be  defeated — for  what  more 
likely  than  that,  in  the  streets  of  a 
crowded  city,  several  persons  would  be 
met,  about  the  same  time,  with  so  com- 
mon a  thing  as  a  pitcher  of  water  ]  or 
than  that  the  disciples,  loitering  a  little 
on  the  road,  or  going  a  different  way, 
would  just  miss  the  encounter  on  which 
the  whole  thing  depended  ? 

The  supposition  of  any  thing  of  plot, 
or  confederacy,  is  excluded  by  the  com- 
monness of  the  specified  occurrences  ; 
and  then,  on  the  other  hand,  this  very 
commonness  should  serve  to  make  what 
must  have  been  prophecy  all  the  more 
wonderful ;  for  to  be  able  to  foresee, 
with  most  perfect  distinctness,  that  the 
man  would  be  met,  that  the  disciples 
would  follow  the  right  person,  that  they 
would  be  taken  to  the  right  house,  that 
they  would  be  shown  the  right  room — 
nay,  you  may  speak  of  the  marvellous- 
ness  of  foreseeing  an  empire's  rise,  or 
an  empire's  fall ;  but  there  might  really 
be  greater  scope  for  the  keen  conjec- 
ture, or  the  sagacious  guess,  of  a  far- 
sighted  man,  in  the  probable  revolutions 
of  states,  than  in  the  pitcher  of  water, 
and  the  furnished  guest-chamber. 

And  whatever  tended  to  prove  to  the 
disciples  their  Master's  thorough  ac- 
quaintance with  every  future  contin- 
gency, ought  to  have  tended  to  the  pre- 
paring them  for  the  approaching  days 
of  disaster  and  separation.  For  how 
could  they  think  that  any  thing,  which 
was  about  to  happen  to  Christ,  would 
happen  by  chance,  without  having  been 
accurately  foreknown  by  Him,  and  fore- 
ordained, when  He  showed  that  his  pre- 
science extended  to  such  inconsiderable 
particulars  as  were  involved  in  the  er- 
rand on  which  they  had  been  sent? 
And  what  right  had  they  to  be  stagger- 


ed by  what  befal  Christ,  if  nothing  be- 
fel  Him  which  He  had  not  expected, 
and  for  which  He  had  not  provided  1 
If  He  foresaw  the  man  with  the  pitcher, 
He  must  have  foreseen  Himself  with 
the  cross — and  surely,  if  He  thoroughly 
foreknew  what  was  coming  upon  Him, 
this  very  circumstance  should  have  suf- 
ficed to  prove  Him  more  than  human ; 
and,  if  more  than  human,  what  was 
there  to  be  staggered  at  in  the  shame 
of  his  cross  ? 

Besides,  it  was  beautifully  adapted  to 
the  circumstances  of  the  disciples,  that 
Christ  showed  that  his  foreknowledge 
extended  to  trifles.  These  disciples 
were  likely  to  imagine,  that,  being  poor 
and  mean  persons,  they  should  be  over- 
looked by  Christ,  when  separated  from 
them,  and,  perhaps,  exalted  to  glory. 
And  the  showing  them  that  his  eye  was 
on  the  movements  of  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor, or  on  the  secret  gatherings  of  the 
Pharisees,  would  not  have  sufficed  to 
prevent,  or  destroy,  this  imagination; 
for  Pilate  and  the  Pharisees  occupied 
prominent  places,  and  might  be  expected 
to  fix  Christ's  attention.  But  that  his 
eye  was  threading  the  crowded  tho- 
roughfares of  the  city,  that  it  was  noting 
a  servant  with  a  pitcher  of  water,  ob- 
serving accurately  when  this  servant  left 
his  master's  house,  when  he  reached  the 
well,  and  when  he  would  be  at  a  parti- 
cular spot  on  his  way  back — ah,  this  was 
not  merely  wonderful  foreknowledge; 
this  was  foreknowledge  applying  itself 
to  the  insignificant  and  unknown  :  Peter 
and  John  might  have  obtained  little  com- 
fort from  Christ's  proving  to  them  that 
He  watched  a  Caesar  on  the  throne;  but 
it  ought  to  have  been  surprisingly  cheer- 
ing to  them,  his  proving  that  He  watch- 
ed a  poor  slave  at  the  fountain. 

Then,  again,  observe  that  whatever 
power  was  here  put  forth  by  Christ,  was 
put  forth  without  his  being  in  contact 
with  the  party  on  whom  it  was  exerted. 
Had  He  gone  Himself  to  the  house- 
holder, and  in  person  demanded  the  ac- 
commodation which  He  needed,  the  re- 
sult might  have  been  ascribed  to  his 
presence  ;  there  was  no  resisting,  it 
might  have  been  said,  one  whose  word 
was  always  "  with  power."  Whereas, 
the  householder  surrendered  his  pro- 
perty on  the  strength  of  the  message, 
"  The  Master  s'aith,"  as  the  owners  had 
surrendered  the  ass  and  the  colt,  on  be- 


158 


THE  FINDING  THE  GUEST-CHAMBER. 


ing  told,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them." 
Christ  acted,  that  is,  upon  parties  who 
were  at  a  distance  from  Him,  thus  giv- 
ing incontrovertible  proof,  that  his  visi- 
ble presence  was  not  necessary  in  order 
to  the  exercise  of  his  power.  What  a 
comfort  should  this  have  been  to  the 
disciples,  informing  and  assuring  them 
that  Christ's  removal  from  them  would 
in  no  degree  interfere  with  his  protec- 
tion and  guardianship  ;  if  from  Bethany 
Christ  could  make  the  householder  in 
Jeiusalem  throw  open  his  guest-cham- 
ber, Peter  might  have  learnt  that,  from 
heaven,  Christ  could  make  the  prison- 
doors  fly  open  for  his  escape. 

Were  not  then  all  the  details  of  the 
errand  before  us,  even  when  you  leave 
out  the  exercise  of  the  faith  of  the  dis- 
ciples, every  way  worthy  of  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  our  Lord,  expressive 
of  his  tender  consideration  for  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  followers,  and  of  his 
desire  to  afford  them  the  instruction  and 
encouragement  which  might  best  fit 
them  for  coming  duties  and  trials  1  In- 
deed, it  is  easy  to  imagine  how,  when 
his  death  was  near  at  hand,  Christ  might 
have  wrought  miracles,  and  uttered  pro- 
phecies, more  august  in  their  character, 
and  more  adapted  to  the  excitement  of 
amazement  and  awe.  He  might  have 
darkened  the  air  with  portents  and  pro- 
digies, and  have  brought  up  from  the 
future  magnificent  processions  of  thrones 
and  principalities.  But  there  would  not 
have  been,  in  these  gorgeous  or  appal- 
ling displays,  the  sort  of  evidence  which 
was  needed  by  disquieted  and  dispirited 
men,  whose  meanness  suggested  to  them 
a  likelihood  of  their  being  overlooked, 
and  who,  expecting  to  be  separated  from 
their  Master,  might  fear  that  the  sepa- 
ration would  remove  them  from  his  care. 
And  this  evidence,  the  evidence  that 
Jesus  had  his  eye  on  those  whom  the 
world  might  neglect  or  despise,  and 
that  He  did  not  require  to  be  visibly 
present,  whether  to  keep  down  an  enemy 
or  support  a  friend — ah,  this  was  given, 
so  that  the  disciples  might  have  taken 
it.  in  all  its  preciousness,  to  themselves, 
when  every  thing  came  to  pass  which 
had  been  involved  in  or  indicated  by  the 
directions,  "  Go  ye  into  the  city,  and 
there  shall  meet  you  a  man  bearing  a 
pitcher  of  water:  follow  him.  And 
wheresoever  he  shall  go  in,  say  ye  to 
the  good  man  of  the  house,  The  Mas- 


ter saith,  Where  is  the  guest-chamber, 
where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my 
disciples  ]" 

And  should  we  be  warranted  in  as- 
signing any  thing  of  a  more  typical  or 
symbolical  meaning  to  the  directions 
which  were  thus  issued  by  our  Lord  I 
Indeed,  in  so  doing,  we  should  not  be 
without  the  sanction  of  .eminent  inter 
prefers,  whilst  the  accuracy  and  beauty 
of  the  type  must  readily  commend  them- 
selves to  every  thoughtful  mind.  It  was 
not  for  the  mere  purpose  of  celebrating 
the  passover  that  our  blessed  Lord 
sought  a  guest-chamber  where  He  might 
eat  his  last  supper  with  his  disciples. 
Then  and  there  was  He  to  institute  that 
commemorative,  that  sacrificial  rite,  in 
and  through  which  the  Church,  in  all 
ages,  was  to  feed  on  his  body,  and 
drink  of  his  precious  blood.  The  sup 
per  was  to  be  concluded  by  his  taking 
bread,  and  blessing  it  into  the  sacra- 
mental representative  of  his  flesh,  wine 
into  the  sacramental  representative  of 
his  blood;  and  by  the  issuing  of  a  so- 
lemn injunction  that  the  like  should  ever 
after  be  done  in  devout  remembrance 
of  Himself.  Thus,  in  that  guest-cham- 
ber, was  the  feast  on  the  paschal  lamb 
to  be  virtually  abolished  ;  but  only  that 
there  might  be  ordained  in  its  stead  a 
profounder  and  more  pregnant  mystery, 
the  feast  on  the  true  Paschal  Lamb,  par- 
taking of  which  the  faithful,  to  the  end 
of  time,  might  apprehend  and  appropri- 
ate the  benefits  of  the  all-sufficient  sa- 
crifice for  the  sins  of  the  world. 

But  the  sacrament  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  our  blessed  Redeemer  is  for 
those  only  who  have  been  duly  initiated 
by  the  sacrament  of  baptism  into  the 
visible  Church.  It  is  not  the  initiatory 
sacrament,  not  that  through  which  we 
are  first  grafted  into  Christ,  and  made 
members  of  his  mystical  body  ;  but  that 
through  which,  having  by  another  ordi- 
nance been  born  again,  and  received 
into  the  family  of  God,  we  are  kept  in 
that  holy  fellowship,  and  nurtured  up  to 
everlasting  life.  Hence  the  one  sacra- 
ment, whose  outward  sign  is  water,  is  pre- 
paratory to  the  other  sacrament,  whose 
outward  part  or  sign  is  bread  and  wine; 
and  it  were,  indeed,  the  most  perilous 
invasion  of  the  highest  privilege  of 
Christians,  were  any,  who  had  not  been 
washed  in  the  laver  of  regeneration,  to 
intrude  themselves  at  that  table  where, 


THE  FINDING  THE   GUKST-CIIAMUr.P. 


1.1!) 


in  awful  remembrance,  and  effectual  sig- 
nificance, there  is  distributed  that  flesh 
which  is  meat  indeed,  and  that  blood 
which  is  drink  indeed. 

But  was  not  all  this,  in  a  measure, 
shadowed  out — or,  if  not  intentionally 
shadowed  out,  may  it  not  be  lawfully 
traced — in  Christ's  directions  to  his  dis- 
ciples on  which  we  have  discoursed  I 
How  were  the  disciples  to  find  out  the 
guest-chamber  ?  By  following  a  man 
"  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water."  The 
water  was,  it  as  were,  to  lead  them  into 
the  guest-chamber,  the  chamber  where 
they  were  to  find  the  body  and  blood  of 
their  Lord.  You  may  pronounce  this 
nothing  but  an  accidental  coincidence, 
if,  indeed,  you  will  presume  to  speak 
of  any  thing  as  accidental,  undesigned, 
and  insignificant,  in  the  actions  and  ap- 
pointments of  Christ.  But  we  cannot 
help  counting  the  coincidence  too  exact, 
and  too  definite,  to  have  not  been  in- 
tended— at  least,  if  we  may  not  use  it  in 
confirmation,  we  may  in  illustration  of 
a  doctrine.  The  disciples,  indeed,  may 
have  attached  no  symbolical  meaning  to 
the  pitcher  of  water  :  they  were  in  quest 
only  of  a  room  in  which  to  eat  the  pass- 
over,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  solemn 
rite  about  to  be  instituted.  Hence,  to 
them  there  would  be  nothing  in  the 
pitcher  of  water,  but  a  mark  by  which 
to  know  into  what  house  to  enter.  But 
to  ourselves,  who  are  looking  for  the 
guest-chamber,  not  as  the  place  where 
the  paschal  lamb  may  be  eaten,  but  as 
that  where  Christ  is  to  give  of  his  own 
body  and  blood,  the  pitcher  of  water 
may  well  serve  as  a  memento  that  it  is 
baptism  which  admits  us  into  Christian 
privileges,  that  they,  who  find  a  place 
at  the  supper  of  the  Lord,  must  have 
met  the  man  with  the  water,  and  have 


]  followed  that  man — must  have  been  pre- 
sented to  the  minister  of  the  Church, 
I  and  have  received  from  him  the  ini- 
j  tiatory  sacrament ;  and  then  have  sub- 
mitted meekly  to  the  guidance  of  the 
Church,  till  introduced  to  those  deeper 
recesses  of  the  sanctuary,  where  Christ 
spreads  his  rich  banquet  for  such  as  call 
upon  his  name. 

Thus  may  there  have  been,  in  the  di- 
rections for  finding  the  guest-chamber, 
a  standing  intimation  of  the  process 
through  which  should  be  sought  an  en- 
trance to  that  upper  room,  where  Christ 
and  his  members  shall  finally  sit  down, 
that  they  may  eat  together  at  the  mar- 
riage supper.  For  the  communion  of 
the  body  and  blood  of  the  Redeemer  is 
itself  to  "show  forth  the  Lord's  death" 
only  "  till  He  come,"  and  shall  give 
place,  as  the  passover  gave  place  to  it, 
to  a  richer  banquet,  in  a  yet  higher 
apartment  of  the  heavenly  kingdom. 
That  apartment,  too,  like  the  upper 
room  in  Jerusalem,  is  large,  and  fur- 
nished, and  prepared — large  enough  to 
admit  us  all,  furnished  and  prepared  with 
whatsoever  can  minister  to  happiness. 
And  having  been  admitted  by  baptism 
into  the  Church  below,  having  sought 
continued  supplies  of  grace  in  the  upper 
room,  at  the  altar  where  the  Master  is 
"  evidently  set  forth,  crucified  among  " 
us — ay,  having  thus,  in  the  simplicity  of 
faith  and  obedience,  submitted  ourselves 
to  Christ's  ordinances,  because  they  are 
his  ordinances,  as  did  the  disciples  to  his 
directions,  because  they  were  his  direc- 
tions, we  may  humbly  hope  to  pass  here- 
after into  that  yet  loftier  abode — more 
truly  "  the  large  upper  room  " — where 
Christ  shall  everlastingly  give  his  peo- 
ple of  his  fulness,  and  make  them  drink 
of  his  pleasures  as  out  of  a  river. 


169 


THE  SPECTRE'S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


SERMON    IV 


THE  SPECTRE'S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


1  Then  a  spirit  passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up:  It  stood  still,  hut  I  could  not  discern  the  form 
thereof:  an  image  was  before  mine  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard  a  voice,  saying,  Shall  mortal  man  be  moro 
just  than  God  )     shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Maker?  " — Job  iv  15,  16,  17. 


Every  one  must,  of  course,  be  aware 
that,  whilst  the  Bible  is  throughout  to 
be  implicitly  depended  on,  as  neither 
recording  historically  anything  but  facts, 
nor  delivering  didactically  anything  but 
truths,  it  does  not  follow  that  every  pas- 
sage may,  in  the  strictest  sense,  be  taken 
as  the  word  of  God.  In  the  historical 
parts  of  Scripture,  the  sayings,  as  well 
as  the  actions  of  various  persons  are  re- 
gistered ;  and  whilst  in  many  instances 
the  actions  are  such  as  God  did  not  ap- 
prove, in  others  the  sayings  are  such  as 
He  did  not  inspire. 

It  does  not  then  follow,  that,  because 
words  are  found  in  the  Bihle,  they  may 
be  taken  as  announcing  some  truth  on 
which  the  preacher  may  safely  proceed 
to  discourse.  They  may  be  the  words 
of  a  man  in  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  did 
not  dwell,  of  a  heathen  whose  creed  was 
falsehood,  or  of  a  blasphemer  who  de- 
spised all  authority.  In  surh  cases,  what 
is  termed  the  inspiration  of  Scripture 
warrants  nothing  but  the  fiithfulness  of 
the  record  :  we  are  sure  that  the  sayings 
set  down  were  actually  uttered  :  the  pen 
of  the  historian  was  guided  by  God's 
Spirit,  but  only  in  regard  of  the  strict 
office  of  the  historian,  that  of  registering 
with  accuracy  certain  occurrences.  And, 
of  course,  if  the  inspiration  extend  only 
to  the  man  who  records,  and  not  to  him 
who  utters  a  saying,  the  saying  itself 
may  not  be  necessarily  truth,  though  the 
Bible  itself  undividedly  is.  In  the  ma- 
jority of  instances,  indeed,  we  doubt  not 
that  the  two  things  concur — the  speaker 
was  directed  what  to  say,  as  well  as  the 
historian  what  to  record — or  rather,  by 


directing  the  historian  to  insert  certain 
sayings  in  his  book,  the  Spirit  of  God 
may  be  considered  as  having  appropri- 
ated those  sayings,  and  given  them  in  a 
measure  the  stamp  of  his  approval. 

We  here  speak  especially  of  the  say- 
ings of  holy  men  of  old.  It  would 
not,  of  course,  be  easy  to  show — nay, 
we  do  not  suppose  it  to  be  true — that, 
in  all  which  the  saints,  whether  of  the 
old  or  the  new  dispensation,  are  record- 
ed to  have  said,  we  may  look  for  the  ut- 
terances of  men  immediately  and  literally 
inspired.  But,  nevertheless,  Ave  think 
that,  in  preserving  their  sayings,  and 
causing  them  to  be  transmitted  to  all  fu- 
ture days,  the  Spirit  of  God  has  so  far 
sanctioned  them  by  his  authority,  that 
they  should  be  received  by  us  with  much 
of  that  reverence  which  is  due  to  express 
and  explicit  revelation. 

We  make  these  general  remarks,  be- 
cause our  text  is  the  utterance  of  an  in- 
dividual for  whom  we  cannot  perhaps 
claim,  on  indubitable  testimony,  that  he 
spake  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  It  is  Eli- 
phaz  the  Temanite  who  speaks,  one  of 
those  three  friends  of  the  afflicted  Pa- 
triarch Job,  who  "had  made  an  appoint- 
ment together  to  come  to  mourn  with 
him  and  to  comfort  him,"  but  who  vir- 
tually did  little  but  upbraid  the  sufferer, 
aggravating  his  griefs  by  injurious  sus- 
picions, and  false  accusations.  We  are 
naturally  so  disposed  to  feel  angry  with 
men  who  dealt,  to  all  appearance,  so 
harshly  with  one  whose  sorrow  and  pa- 
tience should  have  secured  him  the  most 
tender  sympathy,  that  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  persuade  ourselves  that  their 


THE  SPECTRE  S   SERMON   A  TRUISM. 


161 


discourses  are  not  to  be  taken  as  part 
and  parcel  of  the  inspired  Scripture. 
But  we  are  able  to  show,  by  a  simple 
yet  incontestable  proof,  that,  if  the  Spirit 
of  God  did  not  inspire  these  men,  He 
has  given  to  their  sayings,  by  placing 
them  within  the  inspired  volume,  much 
of  tbe  weight  which  his  own  dictation 
must  always  impart. 

There  is  probably  but  one  distinct 
quotation  in  the  New  Testament  from 
the  Book  of  Job.  St.  James,  indeed, 
refers  generally  to  the  history  of  Job, 
but  he  does  not  adduce  any  words  from 
the  narrative.  St.  Paul,  however,  in  his 
first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  has 
quoted  from  the  Book,  and  that  too, 
with  the  form,  "  it  is  written,"  which 
always  serves,  in  the  New  Testament, 
to  mark  what  is  quoted  as  part  of  Holy 
Scripture,  strictly  so  called.  In  order 
to  prove  his  proposition,  "For  the  wis- 
dom of  this  world  is  foolishness  with 
God,"  St.  Paul  states,  "  For  it  is  writ- 
ten, He  taketh  the  wise  in  their  own 
craftiness."  Now  it  is  in  the  Book  of 
Job  that  these  words  are  written;  and 
the  observable  thing  is,  that  they  are 
not  words  uttered  by  Job  himself,  but 
by  that  very  person,  Eliphaz  the  Te- 
manite,  who  also  delivers  the  words  of 
our  text.  We  have,  therefore,  what 
amounts  to  conclusive  evidence,  that, 
whatever  at  times  the  injustice  and  false 
reasoning  of  Eliphaz,  the  Spirit  of  God 
employed  him,  even  as  He  afterwards 
did  Balaam,  in  delivering  truths  for  the 
instruction  of  the  world. 

We  have  desired  to  make  this  clear 
to  you,  before  entering  expressly  or.  the 
examination  of  the  text,  because  we 
wished  to  guard  against  any  suspicion, 
that  we  might  be  laying  too  much  stress 
on  a  passage  for  which  we  could  not 
claim  the  full  authority  that  belongs 
to  what  the  Holy  Ghost  has  indited. 
Though,  indeed,  if  we  could  not  thus 
vindicate,  in  general,  the  inspired  cha- 
racter of  the  utterances  of  Eliphaz,  there 
would  be  little  room  for  doubting,  that, 
in  the  particular  instance  which  has  to 
come  under  review,  this  Temanite  spake 
by  the  direction  of  God.  He  recounts 
a  vision  ;  he  records  words  which  were 
mysteriously  brought  to  him  amid  the 
deep  silence  of  the  night;  and  if  we 
could  not  carry  further  our  confidence 
in  what  he  said,  we  might,  at  least,  be 
sure  that  what  he  affirmed  had  actually 
21 


taken  place,  and  that  words,  which  he 
quoted  as  delivered  to  him  by  an  un- 
earthly voice,  had  indeed  been  breathed 
in  so  startling  and  impressive  a  manner. 

On  every  account,  therefore,  we  r;r; 
plead  for  our  text  as  having  all  that  claim 
on  your  reverential  attention  which  be- 
longs to  inspiration  in  its  highest  degree. 
Come,  then,  with  us ;  and  as  Eliphaz 
records  what  he  saw,  and  what  he  heard, 
attend  as  you  would  to  the  utterances 
of  a  messenger  from  the  invisible  world. 
We  do  not  want  to  make  the  blood  run 
cold,  nor  to  thrill  you  with  a  strange 
and  undefinable  dread.  But,  neverthe- 
less, we  would  use  the  wild  and  awful 
circumstances  of  the  vision  to  give  so- 
lemnity to  the  truth  which  is  brought  to 
our  notice ;  for  it  may  be  that  with  you, 
as  with  Eliphaz,  there  will  be  a  listen- 
ing with  greater  abstraction  and  intense- 
ness  of  feeling,  if  it  be  from  a  dim  and 
flitting  image,  and  after  a  deep  porten- 
tous silence,  that  you  hear  the  question -i 
asked,  "  Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just 
than  God  1  shall  a  man  be  more  pure 
than  his  maker  V 

Now  there  can  be  no  dispute  that  we 
have,  in  the  narrative  of  Eliphaz,  the  ac- 
count of  an  apparition  :  a  purely  spirit- 
ual being,  such  as  an  angel,  assumed  a 
visible  though  indescribable  form,  and 
stood  before  Eliphaz  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night.  It  is  generally  regarded  as 
proof  of  a  weak  and  superstitious  mind, 
to  put  faith  in  what  are  termed  ghost 
stories,  tales  of  apparitions,  whether  of 
the  dead,  or  of  unknown  visitants  from 
the  spiritual  world.  But  we  do  not  see 
why  so  much  of  scepticism  and  ridicule 
should  be  afloat  on  the  matter  of  alleged 
apparitions.  We  see  nothing,  whether 
in  the  statements  of  Scriptm-e,  or  the 
deductions  of  reason,  from  which  to  de- 
cide that  there  cannot  be  apparitions  ; 
that  the  invisible  state  may  never  com- 
municate with  the  visible  through  the 
instrumentality  of  phantoms,  strange  and 
boding  forms  that  are  manifestly  not  of 
this  earth.  And  if  you  cannot  show, 
either  from  revelation,  or  from  the  na- 
ture of  things,  that  apparitions  are  im- 
possible, of  course  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  any  alleged  case  is  simply  dependent 
on  testimony — no  amount  of  testimony 
could  make  me  believe  that  a  known 
impossibility  had  taken  place;  but  any 
thing  short  of  a  known  impossibility 
might   be    substantiated   by   evidence ; 


1G2 


THE   SPECTKKS   SERMON'  A  TRUISM. 


and  certainly,  therefore,  an  apparition 
may  be  substantiated,  for  no  one  will 
ever  prove  the  actual  impossibility. 
There  may  easily  be  a  weak  and  fond 
credulity  in  regard  of  ghosts  and  appa- 
ritions ;  but  there  may  be  also,  we  be- 
lieve,  a  cold  and  hard  .scepticism  :  and 
knowing  how  thin  is  the  vail  which 
hangs  between  the  visible  and  invisible 
worlds,  and  how  transparent  that  vail  is 
to  spiritual  beings,  though  impervious 
to  mortal  sight,  it  might  be  better  for  us 
to  be  classed  with  the  credulous — if  it 
be  credulity  to  yield  on  sufficient  testi- 
mony— than  with  those  who  are  too  en- 
lightened to  be  superstitious,  if  super- 
stition be  the  thinking  that  God,  for  wise 
purposes,  may  sometimes  draw  aside 
the  vail,  or  make  it  transparent  on  this 
side  as  well  as  on  the  other. 

Neither  should  we  wonder  if  much 
of  that  dogged  resistance,  which  is  op- 
posed to  the  best  authenticated  narra- 
tives of  apparitions,  may  be  traced  to 
men's  repugnance  to  the  being  brought 
into  contact  with  the  invisible  world. 
They  instinctively  shrink  from  commu- 
nion with  a  state,  which  their  irrepressi- 
ble fears  people  with  dark  and  fitful 
imagery;  and  it  is,  therefore,  with  them 
a  sort  of  self-defence,  to  take  refuge  in 
a  thorough  scorn  of  the  possibility,  that 
spirits,  which  are  verily  around  them, 
might  assume  human  shape,  and  become 
on  a  sudden  visible  and  vocal. 

It  is  moreover  worth  observing,  that 
the  Bible,  so  far  from  discountenancing 
the  notion  of  apparitions,  may  be  said 
to  give  it  the  weight  of  its  testimony, 
and  that  too  in  more  than  one  instance. 
We  have  already  remarked  that  no  more 
thorough  case  of  apparition  can  be  even 
imagined,  than  is  put  upon  record  in  the 
narrative  of  Eliphaz.  You  could  not 
find,  in  the  most  marvellous  of  ghost 
stories,  more  of  supernatural  demonstra- 
tion, nor  more  of  that  paralyzing  effect, 
which,  ever  since  sin  separated  between 
man  and  God,  appears  produced,  even 
on  the  best,  by  visitations  from  the  spi- 
ritual world.  The  passing  of  the  spirit 
before  the  face  of  Eliphaz  ;  the  stand- 
ing up  of  the  hair  of  his  flesh  ;  the  in- 
distinctness, yet  truth  of  the  image,  so 
that  no  straining  of  the  eye  could  make 
the  form  definite,  nor  any  cause  it  to  dis- 
perse ;  and  then,  after  a  solemn  pause, 
the  deep  oracular  voice,  burdened  with 
weighty  question — why,  there  is  nothing 


in  any  book,  whether  of  fiction  or  fact, 
which  takes  greater  hold  on  the  imagi- 
nation, or  more  exquisitely  portrays 
what  might  be  supposed  a  case  of  ap- 
parition. If  every  subsequent  tale  of 
supernatural  appearance  be  invention 
or  fable,  at  least  the  fable  is  modelled 
after  a  true  story ;  and  we  should  have 
Scripture  from  which  tQ  prove  that  there 
might  come  an  apparation,  if  we  had  no 
human  record  whatsoever  that  any  had 
been  seen. 

Besides — for  it  might  with  some 
justice  be  said  that  wdiat  happened  in 
early  days,  when  revelation  was  scant, 
and  God  supplied  the  want  by  immedi 
ate  intercourse,  ought  not  to  be  taken 
in  proof  of  what  may  happen  in  later — 
if  you  observe  what  is  recorded  of  the 
apostles  of  Christ,  you  will  find  that  the 
notion  of  apparitions  was  not  only  com- 
monly entertained,  but  that  it  passed 
unrebuked  by  our  Savior  Himself. 
When  Christ  approached  his  disciples, 
walking  on  the  sea,  we  read,  "  They 
were  troubled,  saying,  It  is  a  spirit,  and 
they  cried  out  for  fear."  They  evident- 
ly supposed  that  there  might  be  an  ap- 
parition, that  a  spirit  might  assume  hu- 
man form ;  and  though  you  may  say 
that  this  arose  only  from  the  ignorance 
and  superstition  of  the  disciples,  it  is, 
at  least,  observable  that  our  Lord  pro- 
ceeded immediately  to  quiet  their  ap- 
prehensions, but  not  to  correct  their 
mistake — "  Be  of  good  cheer ;  it  is  I ; 
be  not  afraid." 

On  the  occasion,  moreover,  of  his 
own  Resurrection,  he  gave  yet  stronger 
countenance  to  the  notion  that  spirits 
might  appear.  When  he  stood  sudden- 
ly in  the  midst  of  the  assembled  disci- 
ples, havingentered  the  chambers  though 
the  doors  were  closed,  "  they  were  ter- 
rified and  affrighted,  and  supposed  that 
they  had  seen  a  spirit."  That  Christ 
should  have  obtained  admission,  not- 
withstanding the  barred  entrance,  was 
a  similar  phenomenon  to  his  treading 
the  waters  as  though  they  had  been  r>. 
solid  pavement;  and  the  disciples  took 
refuge  in  the  same  supposition,  that  it 
was  no  human  being,  such  as  one  of 
themselves,  but  a  spectral  thing,  which 
could  thus  set  at  nought  the  laws  to 
which  matter  is  subject.  And  though 
it  does  not  appear  that,  on  this  occasion, 
they  expressed  their  apprehensions, 
Christ  knew  their  thoughts,  and  at  once 


THE  SPECTRE  S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


1G3 


took  pains  to  show  them  their  error. 
But  how  1  not  by  saying,  there  are  no 
such  things  as  apparitions,  and  you  are 
weak,  and  ignorant,  in  imagining  that 
spirits  ever  take  form,  and  come  amongst 
men — which  is  just  what  might  have 
been  expected  from  our  Lord,  the  great 
teacher  of  the  world,  had  there  been  an 
error  to  correct — but  by  showing  that  He 
Himself  could  not  be  a  spirit,  forasmuch 
as  He  had  al1  the  attributes  and  acci- 
dents of  a  body.  "  Behold  my  hands 
and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself;  handle 
me  and  see  ;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh 
and  bones,  as  ye  see  me  have."  We 
can  hardly  think  that  our  Lord  would 
thus  have  given  a  criterion,  as  it  were, 
for  distinguishing  a  spirit  or  an  appari- 
tion, were  it  indeed  only  the  fable  or 
fancy  of  the  credulous,  that  the  tenant- 
ry of  the  invisible  world  may  occasion- 
ally be  sent  by  God  with  messages  to 
man,  or  that  the  grave  may,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, give  back  its  inhabitants  for 
the  disclosure  of  foul  deeds,  or  the 
warning  of  the  living. 

Of  this  only  may  we  be  persuaded, 
that  it  would  not  be  on  any  trivial  or  or- 
dinary occasion  that  God  drew  the  vail, 
and  commissioned  spiritual  beings  to 
appear  upon  earth.  In  some  great  crisis, 
whether  to  nations  or  to  individuals,  He 
might  see  fit  to  convey  intimations 
through  the  agency  of  a  spectre,  em- 
ploying supernatural  machinery  to  give 
warning  of  a  coming  catastrophe,  lo 
prepare  a  people  for  battle,  or  a  sinner 
for  dissolution.  The  rich  man,  whilst 
he  tossed  on  the  fires  of  hell,  imagined 
that  if  the  dead  Lazarus  were  permitted 
to  revisit  the  earth,  and  to  appear 
amongst  his  brethren  in  the  midst  of 
their  carelessness  and  revelry,  the  effect 
would  be  to  stir  them  to  repentance, 
and  so  prevent  their  joining  him  in  his 
place  of  deep  torment.  And  therefore 
did  He  passionately  beseech  that  the 
apparition  might  be  sent,  and  that  the 
beggar  might  stand  before  his  dissolute 
kinsmen  in  the  startling  form  of  one 
risen  from  the  grave.  The  request  was 
denied  :  but  it  was  not  denied  on  the 
principle  that  the  case  was  not  one  for 
supernatural  interference,  but  on  the 
reason  that  they,  who  could  resist  the 
teaching  of  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
would  remain  unpersuaded  by  the  warn- 
ings of  a  spirit. 

It  was  the  sort  of  case  in  which  we 


might  look  for  the  apparition,  so  far  as 
its  importance  was  concerned.  But  it 
is  not  God's  method,  to  employ  extra- 
ordinary means,  when  ordinary  ought 
to  have  sufficed;  and.  therefore,  they 
who  yield  not  to  the  ministrations  of  the 
Gospel,  and  are  not  warned  by  daily 
judgments  and  occurrences,  must  not 
think  to  have  the  silences  of  the  mid- 
night broken  by  a  mysterious  voice,  nor 
the  solitude  of  the  chamber  invaded  by 
a  boding  spectre,  in  order  to  their  being 
compelled  to  give  heed  to  religion.  It 
is  not  that  there  might  not  be  wrought, 
in  many  instances,  a  beneficial  and  per- 
manent effect  on  the  careless  and  im- 
penitent, through  the  medium  of  an  ap- 
parition. For  though  in  the  parable,  to 
which  we  have  referred,  it  is  stated  that 
they,  who  heard  not  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  would  not  "  be  persuaded 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead  ;  "  this 
can  only  be  understood  of  such  as  have 
listened  to  Moses  and  the  prophets,  and 
remained  unconvinced  :  there  is  yet  a 
vast  number,  even  in  a  land  flooded  with 
the  light  of  revelation,  who  can  hardly 
be  said  to  be  cognizant  of  the  Gospel ; 
and,  very  possibly,  upon  these  the  spec- 
tral messenger  would  produce  great  ef- 
fect; though,  forasmuch  as  their  igno- 
rance of  the  Gospel  may  be  traced  to 
their  own  negligence  and  wilfulness,  it 
is  not  to  be  expected,  that,  on  their  be- 
half, shall  graves  be  depopulated,  and 
wild  unearthly  phantoms  make  the  night 
terrible. 

Still  the  general  proposition  remains, 
that,  if  ever  the  vail  which  God  hath 
hung  between  the  visible  and  the  invisi- 
ble world  be  'withdrawn,  so  that,  in 
shape  and  bearing  discernible  by  man, 
a  spirit  cross  the  separating  line,  it  must 
be  on  some  great  and  mighty  occasion, 
when  an  awful  truth  is  to  be  delivered, 
or  a  dread  event  foretold.  And  if  any 
thing  can  give  solemnity  to  a  message, 
any  thing  persuade  us  of  its  being  the 
announcement  of  something  deep  and 
momentous,  it  must  be  its  being  breath- 
ed from  spectral  lips  ;  or  that,  in  agree- 
ment with  the  thrilling  words  which  the 
ghost  of  Samuel  used  to  Saul  in  the 
cave  of  the  enchantress,  one  of  the  dead 
hath  been  disquieted  that  he  might  bring 
the  communication.  Come  then,  we 
again  say,  it  must  be  a  vast  and  startling 
truth  which  we  have  to  lay  before  you : 
it  would  not  otherwise  have  been  con- 


164 


THE  SPECTRE'S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


veyed  through  the  ministry  of  a  spectre  : 
there  would  not  otherwise  have  been 
need  of  an  express  revelation,  and  that, 
too,  by  the  voice  of  a  flitting  figure,  whose 
pale  and  shadowy  form  caused  the  hair 
of  the  spectator's  flesh  to  stand  up.  If 
there  be  deep  words  in  Scripture,  or 
words  to  which  we  require  extraordi- 
nary testimony,  surely  they  must  be 
those,  which,  in  departure  from  all  com- 
mon course,  God  sent  a  spirit  to  utter — 
and  thus  it  was  that  these  questions 
were  breathed,  "  Shall  mortal  man  be 
more  just  than  God]  shall  a  man  be 
more  pure  than  his  Maker?  " 

And  here  we  bring  you  to  the  point 
which  appears  to  us  to  require  the  being 
closely  examined.  It  is  very  certain, 
that,  on  reading  the  account  of  the  ap- 
parition which  stood  before  Eliphaz — 
an  apparition  so  mysteriously  terrible, 
that  he  declares,  in  the  verse  preceding 
our  text,  "Fear  came  upon  me,  and 
trembling,  which  made  all  my  bones  to 
shake  " — we  naturally  prepare  ourselves 
for  some  very  momentous  communica- 
tion, for  a  truth  which  lay  beyond  the 
reach  of  reason,  or  which  was  likely  to 
have  remained  undiscovered,  had  not 
God  thus  strangely  interposed,  and  con- 
veyed it  through  an  extraordinary  chan- 
nel. All  that  can  be  said  as  to  the  mode 
of  revelation  in  early,  or  patriarchal, 
days,  when  visions  were  employed  be- 
cause as  yet  the  Divine  purposes  were 
not  laid  open  to  the  world,  only  confirms 
the  expectation  that  it  would  be  some 
truth  of  overwhelming  interest,  scarce- 
ly to  be  detected  by  the  researches  of 
natural  theology,  with  whose  delivery  a 
spirit  came  charged. 

But  the  question  now  is,  whether 
such  an  expectation  be,  in  any  measure, 
answered ;  whether,  in  other  words, 
there  be  any  thing  of  apparent  keeping 
between  the  message  itself,  and  the  su- 
pernatural machinery  employed  to  give 
it  utterance.  We  do  not  think  that,  at 
first  sight,  there  is.  Surely,  if  there  be 
an  elementary  truth,  a  truth,  at  least, 
which  every  one  who  believes  in  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God  may  ascertain  without 
revelation,  and  must  admit  without  ques- 
tioning, it  is,  that  man  cannot  be  more 
just  than  God,  nor  more  pure  than  his 
Maker.  You  might  exclaim,  We  need 
no  angel  from  heaven  to  teach  us  this  : 
this  follows  immediately  on  the  confes- 
sion of  a  God  :  in  no  age  of  the  world 


can  it  have  been  necessary  to  teach 
those,  who  believed  in  a  God,  that  God 
must  be  1  setter  and  greater  than  them- 
selves ;  theoretically,  at  least,  they  must 
always  have  held  this  proposition,  and 
could  not  have  required  the  being  con- 
firmed in  it  through  a  supernatural 
visitation. 

And  however  scanty  jmay  have  been 
the  amount  of  express  revelation  in  the 
days  of  the  Patriarch  Job,  there  is  no 
debate  that  a  pure  theism  was  the  creed 
of  himself  and  his  friends  :  that  they 
must  have  been  as  well  aware  as  our- 
selves, and  as  ready  to  acknowledge, 
that  there  existed  a  Being  to  whom 
every  other  was  tributary  and  inferior, 
and  whose  perfections  were  further  re- 
moved than  is  heaven  from  earth,  from 
whatsoever  may  be  likened  to  them  in 
human  characteristics.  We  cannot  well 
doubt,  that,  had  Eliphaz  been  asked,  be- 
fore the  mysterious  visitant  came  upon 
him  in  the  midnight,  which  he  believed 
the  more  just,  and  which  the  more  pure, 
man  or  his  Maker,  he  would  have  an- 
swered without  hesitation,  that  there 
could  not.  be  comparison ;  he  would 
perhaps  have  expressed  surprise,  that 
any  one  could  have  supposed  that  the 
lofty  Being  who  inhabiteth  eternity, 
might  be  rivalled  in  any  excellence  by 
the  creatures  of  a  day. 

But  what  then  are  we  to  gather  from 
the  visit  of  the  spectre]  wherefore  was 
there  this  departure  from  ordinary  rules, 
this  sending  of  a  special  messenger  from 
the  invisible  world,  if  nothing  were 
communicated  that  was  not  already  well 
known,  nothing  but  the  most  elementary 
truth,  which,  even  in  the  greatest  dearth 
of  revelation,  must  have  been  accessi- 
ble to  all  who,  possessing  any  mind,  em- 
ployed it  upon  Deity '?  We  readily  own 
that  there  is  a  great  apparent  discrep- 
ancy between  the  employed  instru- 
mentality and  the  communicated  mes- 
sage. We  should  have  quite  expected 
that  the  apparition  would  have  an- 
nounced some  abstruse,  mysterious  pro- 
position; that,  as  it  was  sent  for  the 
purpose  of  affording  instruction,  its  ut- 
terances would  not  have  been  limited  to 
an  ascertained  and  incontestable  fact. 
If  there  had  been  any  thing  that  could 
strictly  have  been  called  a  revelation  ; 
if  some  property  of  Godhead  had  been 
made  known,  which  was  not  discovera- 
ble by  i-eason  ;  or  if  some  intimation  had 


THE  SPECTRE  S   SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


165 


Keen  granted  of  the  wondrous  scheme 
of  rescue  which  in  the  fulness  of  time  was 
to  be  acted  out  on  the  earth,  there  would 
seem  to  us  a  sufficient  end  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  spirit,  or  a  keeping  be- 
tween the  purpose  and  the  agency. 
But  to  send  a  spectre,  to  send  it  with 
every  terrible  accompaniment,  so  that  it 
seems  to  have  chilled  the  blood  and  pal- 
sie  1  the  tongue  of  the  spectator,  and  to 
give  it  nothing  to  say,  but  that  God  is 
j lister  and  purer  than  man — there  does 
indeed  appear  here  a  kind  of  incongru- 
ity ;  and  we  are  bound  to  examine 
whether  there  be  not  some  lesson  con- 
veyed in  the  very  circumstance  of  the 
employment  of  a  vision,  when,  accord- 
ing to  our  apprehensions,  there  was  no 
need  of  supernatural  teaching.  And 
forasmuch  as  we  know  assuredly  that 
the  means  which  God  employs  are  al- 
ways the  best,  precisely  adapted,  and 
never  disproportioned,  to  the  end,  it  must 
rather  become  us  to  conclude  that  the 
truth,  which  the  apparition  delivered,  is 
not  so  universally  admitted  as  we  sup- 
pose, than  to  wonder  that  what  every 
one  acknowledges  should  have  received 
so  marvellous  an  attestation. 

It  is  here  that  we  come  upon  the  chief 
mstructiveness  of  the  passage.  We 
wish  you  indeed  to  contrast  the  solem- 
nity and  awfulness  of  the  agency  em- 
ployed with  the  simplicity  and  common- 
ness of  the  message  delivered.  But  we 
do  not  mean  you  to  infer  that  the  agency 
was  disproportioned  to  the  message : 
we  rather  call  upon  you  to  examine 
whether,  notwithstanding  the  ready  con- 
fession, the  message  be  not  one  in  re- 
gard of  which  there  is  a  secret  infideli- 
y  ;  whether,  in  short,  there  be  not  often 
leeded  some  such  instrumentality  as 
.hat  of  the  spectre,  to  persuade  even 
;mrselves  that  mortal  man  is  neither 
move  just,  nor  more  pure  than  his  Maker. 

We  may  suppose  that  Eliphaz  ad- 
duced the  vision  as  applicable  to  the 
circumstances  of  Job,  who  laboring 
under  most  weighty  affliction,  would  be 
tempted  to  arraign  the  equity  of  the 
Divine  dispensations.  It  would  not 
have  been  surprising,  in  a  measure  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  the  case,  had 
Job  compared  the  righteousness  of  his 
life  with  the  severity  of  his  lot,  and  had 
he  drawn  from  the  comparison  conclu- 
sions unfavorable  to  the  moral  govern- 
ment   of  God.     Indeed,  they  who  had 


known  the  purity  of  the  patriarch,  and 
then  observed  the  fearful  judgments  by 
which  he  was  overtaken,  must  have  had 
need  of  strong  faith  to  repress  injurious 
suspicious,  and  to  justify  to  themselves 
the  ways  of  their  Maker.  Yea,  so  dif- 
ficult was  it  to  do  this,  without  falling 
into  an  opposite  error,  that  the  three 
friends  of  Job  could  only  defend  God 
by  accusing  the  patriarch  ;  they  vindi- 
cated the  judgments  which  were  visible, 
by  supposing  some  wickedness  which 
had  not  been  detected.  Accordingly, 
Eliphaz  quoted  what  he  had  heaid  from 
the  apparition,  as  though  to  repress 
what  was  struggling  in  the  breast  of  the 
sufferer,  or  to  assure  all,  who  might  be 
staggered  by  his  calamities,  that  God 
must  be  clear  in  the  matter,  whatever 
might  be  said  as  to  man.  It  was  as 
much  as  to  say,  appearances  are  per- 
plexing :  judging  from  these  alone,  we 
might  decide  against  the  Divine  equity, 
and  suppose  that  even  human  beings 
would  act  with  greater  justice.  But  I 
can  tell  you  of  an  express  communica- 
tion from  Heaven,  intended  to  fortify 
against  such  injurious  suspicions  :  there 
stood  before  me  a  messenger  from  the 
invisible  world,  and  in  accents  which 
thrilled  through  the  soul  he  denounced 
the  imagining  that,  under  any  possi- 
ble circumstances,  man  can  be  juster 
and  more  pure  than  God. 

Thus  the  vision  was  probably  grant- 
ed, and  certainly  used,  to  oppose  an  in- 
fidelity more  or  less  secret — an  infideli- 
ty which,  fostered  by  the  troubles  and 
discrepancies  of  human  estate,  took  the 
Divine  attributes  as  its  subject,  and 
either  limited  or  denied  them  altogeth- 
er. And  what  say  you,  men  and  breth- 
ren, as  to  there  being  no  such  infidelit.v 
amongst  ourselves  1  We  are  persuaded, 
that,  if  you  will  search  your  own  hearts, 
you  will  find  that  you  often  give  it  some 
measure  of  entertainment.  We  are  per- 
suaded of  this  in  regard  both  of  God's 
general  dealings,  and  of  his  individual 
or  personal. 

And,  first,  of  God's  general  dealings, 
of  those  of  which  the  whole  race,  as  a 
body,  is  the  subject.  In  spite  of  all  the 
demonstrations  of  theology — nay,  in 
spite  of  all  the  acknowledgments  and 
confessions  of  men,  when  pressed  for  an 
answer — there  is  harbored  a  suspicion, 
if  not  a  persuasion,  that  God  acted  in  a 
manner    unworthy    of    his    perfections, 


166 


THE  SPECTRE  S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


when  He  suffered  A  flam  to  fall,  and  en- 
tailed a  heritage  of  woe  on  myriads 
which  had  no  share  in  his  transgres- 
sion. There  is  so  much  of  mystery 
round  the  permission  of  evil  ;  it  is  ap- 
parently so  strange,  that,  for  a  single 
fault,  calamity  and  death  should  have 
been  made  the  portion  of  successive  and 
mighty  generations ;  that,  reason  how 
we  will,  and  prove  what  we  will,  num- 
bers secretly  cherish  the  thought  that 
there  was  injustice  with  God,  or,  if  not 
injustice,  a  defective  benevolence. 

We  are  not  afraid  of  putting  it  to 
your  own  consciences  to  attest  the  truth 
of  this.  We  are  sure  that  many  amongst 
you  will  secretly  acknowledge,  that, 
when  they  look  on  a  world  overrun 
with  sorrow,  and,  yet  more,  when  they 
think  on  the  fire  and  the  worm  which 
must  constitute  the  future  portion  of 
those  who  obey  the  evil  passions  roused 
in  them  through  the  apostasy  of  Adam, 
they  feel'  as  though  there  were  some- 
thing harsh  and  inexplicable  in  the  dis- 
pensation, something  not  to  have  been 
expected  from  such  a  being  as  God,  but 
more  or  less  at  variance  with  the  pre- 
sumed attributes  of  his  nature.  And  we 
are  not  now  about  to  expose  the  tho- 
rough falseness  of  the  opinion.  We 
have  often  done  this.  We  have  often 
shown  you,  that,  forasmuch  as  God  had 
all 'along  determined  the  redemption  of 
nrin,  it  consisted  as  much  with  goodness 
as  with  justice  that  He  permitted  his 
fall — there  having  been  provision,  in 
the  mediatorial  arrangement,  for  the  be- 
stowment  of  far  greater  happiness  on 
the  race  than  it  lost  through  the  origi- 
nal sin. 

But  it  is  not  oar  present  business  to 
vindicate  the  equity  of  the  dealings  in 
question  :  we  have  simply  to  do  with 
the  suitableness  of  sending  an  appari- 
tion, when  that  equity  might  be  the 
burden  of  the  message  which  it  bore. 
The  point  which  lies  for  our  inquiry,  is 
merely,  whether  such  a  supernatural 
agency  as  was  employed  towards  Eli- 
phaz  be,  or  be  not,  disproportioned  to 
the  communication  with  which  the  spec- 
tre was  charged.  And  our  belief  is, 
that  there  is  no  disproportion  ;  that, 
even  now,  with  all  the  aids  which  reve- 
lation can  supply,  and  with  the  glorious 
things  of  redemption  thrown  open  to 
our  view,  there  is  frequently  harbored 
a    feeling    that    God's    ways    were   not 


worthy  of  Himself,  when  He  exposed 
our  first  parents  to  temptation,  and,  hav- 
ing suspended  on  a  single  act  the  inter- 
ests of  countless  myriads,  interfered  not 
to  prevent  the  universal  shipwreck.  We 
care  not  whether  the  feeling  be  openly 
avouched,  though  that  is  far  from  rare 
— enough  that  it  is  secretly  cherished  ; 
and  so  long  as  any  man,  viewing  the 
condition  of  the  world,  and  tracing  that 
condition  to  its  cause,  is  disposed  to  ac- 
cuse God  of  a  want,  whether  of  equity 
or  of  benevolence,  in  regard  of  his  first 
dealings  with  our  race,  so  long  may  it 
be  said  that  an  apparition  would  be 
suitably  employed,  if  employed  to  de- 
liver only  such  words  as  those  which 
the  affrighted  Eliphaz  heard.  I  know 
that  you  would  expect,  and  very  justly, 
that,  if  the  silence  of  the  midnight  is  to 
be  broken  by  an  unearthly  voice,  it 
must  be  for  the  announcement  of  some 
very  great  truth  ;  that,  if  you  are  to  be 
startled  by  a  boding  form,  gliding  to  the 
bedside,  it  must  be  on  some  extraordi- 
nary occasion,  and  for  some  momentous 
purpose.  But  we  should  find  such  an 
occasion,  and  such  a  purpose,  whereso- 
ever there  was  a  disposition  to  arraign 
God's  dealings  with  mankind,  to  doubt, 
if  not  to  deny,  their  thorough  consistence 
with  the  alleged  attributes  of  his  na- 
ture. It  is  nothing  to  say  that  there  is 
already  sufficient  information,  if  there 
be  still  a  secret  and  lingering  infidelity. 
The  sufficiency  of  the  information  may 
be  a  reason  against  expecting  a  super- 
natural visit ;  but  the  fact  of  the  infideli- 
ty is  proof  of  what  would  be  the  suit- 
ableness of  the  visit.  And  though  I 
know  of  any  one  of  you,  that  he  has  in 
his  hands  the  Bible,  that  amazing  re- 
gister of  God's  gracious  purposes  and 
arrangements  on  behalf  of  the  fallen 
and  lost,  and  that  he  attends  the 
ministrations  of  the  Gospel,  through 
which  is  laid  before  him  a  scheme  of 
restoration  far  more  than  commensurate 
with  the  ruin  wrought  by  sin,  yet  I 
should  not  be  surprised,  I  should  not, 
that  is,  feel  as  though  there  were  an 
agency  disproportioned  to  the  need, 
.were  I  to  hear  of  this  man,  that  he  had 
been  visited  by  such  a  form  as  that 
which  stood  before  Eliphaz,  and,  never- 
theless, that  this  form  had  uttered  only 
the  questions  which  Eliphaz  heard.  I 
know  too  well  how  possible,  how  com- 
mon, it  is  for  men  to  be  staggered  by 


THE  SPECTRE  S  SF.K?,fON   A  TRUISM. 


167 


the  permission  of  evil,  not  withstanding 
what  is  revealed  to  them  as  to  the  fiual 
prevalence  of  good.  I  know  too  well 
what  secret  misgivings  there  are,  what 
questionings,  what  doublings,  what  sus- 
picious :  and  with  what  a  distressed  ami 
apprehensive  look  many  survey  the 
abounding?  both  of  iniquity  and  of 
misery,  as  though  they  feared  that  on 
so  troubled  a  sea  there  could  not  sit 
majesticalthe  righteousness  of  the  Lord. 
And  could  I  then  think  that  an  appari- 
tion had  been  commissioned  for  a  ne- 
cessarily insufficient  end,  if  commission- 
ed only  to  declare  the  pre-eminent  and 
immutable  attributes  of  the  Most  High  'I 

Not  so  :  the  means  would,  in  no  sense, 
be  disproportioned  to  the  end,  and  the 
end  would  be  in  every  sense  worthy  of 
the  means.  It  might  be  that  the  cham- 
ber, which  the  spectre  invaded,  was  that 
of  one  whose  mind  had  long  been  ha- 
rassed by  the  common  doubts,  and  who, 
despite  the  testimony  of  Scripture,  was 
wont  to  argue  upon  human  principles  in 
respect  of  the  fall,  and  to  reach  conclu- 
sions derogatory  to  the  Divine  perfec- 
tions. There  are  thousands  such  in 
every  division  of  Christendom — I  doubt 
not  there  are  some,  whether  few  or 
many,  amongst  yourselves.  Single  me 
out  such  an  individual.  I  dare  not  pre- 
dict, that,  at  some  coming  midnight,  the 
spectre  will  be  at  his  side.  I  do  not  say 
that  he  has  right  to  expect  a  supernatu- 
ral visit,  when  the  ordinary  means  of  in- 
struction are  so  ready  to  his  hand,  and 
so  abundant  in  themselves.  But  this  I 
say — that  I  should  see  nothing  to  won- 
der at,  nothing  to  persuade  me  that  God 
had  used  extraordinary  agency  where  it 
was  not  required,  if  that  individual  came 
to  me,  and  told  me,  with  all  the  indica- 
tions of  one  who  still  quailed  at  the  re- 
membrance, that,  in  some  deep  silence, 
and  in  some  dark  solitude,  there  had 
hovered  before  him  an  indistinct  form, 
forcing  itself  to  be  felt  as  from  the  un- 
seen world,  by  the  creeping  of  the  flesh, 
and  the  standing  of  the  hair;  that  there 
had  come  forth  from  it  a  voice,  such  as 
never  issued  from  human  thing ;  and, 
nevertheless,  that  the  only  utterances 
thus  syllabled  in  fearfulness  and  mysterv, 
were  these  simple  questions,  "  Shall 
mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God? 
shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Ma- 
ker?" 

My  brethren,  will  you  be  disposed  to 


say  that  we  overstate  facts,  if  we  now 
luin  from  the  general  dealings  of  God 
to  die  individual,  or  personal,  and  con- 
tend that  the  main  of  our  foregoing  ar- 
gument is  applicable  without  the  change 
of  a  letter  .'  We  have  hitherto  reason- 
ed on  a  disposition  towards  questioning 
the  equity  of  those  dealings  of  which 
our  whole  race  is  the  subject,  as  sprung 
of  a  rebellious  ancestry.  We  have  con- 
tended that  such  a  disposition  is  com- 
mon, notwithstanding  the  full  testimo- 
nies of  revelation,  so  that  numbers  cher- 
ish a  secret  infidelity,  thinking  man 
more  just  than  God,  inasmuch  as  man 
would  not  have  permitted  so  ruinous  a 
thing  as  our  first  parents'  fall.  And  we 
have  argued,  that,  so  long  as  this  secret 
infidelity  exists,  it  would  not  be  without 
sufficient  cause  that  an  apparition  passed 
the  boundary  line  between  the  visible 
and  the  invisible  world,  though  it  should 
have  nothing  to  utter  but  elementary 
truth,  like  that  heard  by  Eliphaz,  truth 
quite  discoverable  by  reason,  though  you 
keep  out  of  sight  the  aids  of  revelation. 
But  now  let  us  ask  you  whether  that 
very  infidelity,  which  we  have  thus  la- 
bored to  expose,  does  not  gain  power 
over  many,  when  individually  subjected 
to  trials  and  afflictions  1  Alas,  how  easy 
is  it  to  confess  that  God  doeth  all  things 
well,  till  his  hand  is  on  ourselves  ;  and 
how  common,  then,  to  feel  as  though  his 
dealings  were  strange,  and'  hard  to  be 
justified.  There  is  no  more  frequent 
expression  than  such  as  this,  "  What  a 
mysterious  Providence !  what  a  dark 
dispensation  !  "  You  can  scarcely  speak 
to  a  Christian  when  in  trouble,  without 
hearing  some  such  words.  Whether  it 
be  the  death  of  a  child,  or  of  a  parent, 
the  loss  of  property,  or  the  frustration 
of  some  long-cherished  plan,  with  which 
he  has  been  visited,  his  tone  is  com- 
monly that  of  one  to  whom  something 
has  happened  which  could  not  have  been 
looked  for,  and  who  cannot  account  for 
the  permission  of  the  evil. 

Now  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there 
are  no  such  things  as  what  are  popular- 
ly termed  mysterious  providences  ;  but 
we  are  sure  that  the  name  is  frequently 
given  where  there  is  no  mystery  at  all. 
The  end  for  which  God  appoints,  or, 
rather,  permits  affliction,  is  to  turn  men 
to  Himself,  if  they  be  yet  the  impeni- 
tent, and  to  wean  them  more  from  the 
world,  if  they  be  already  converted.    It 


168 


THE  SPECTRE  S  SERMON  A  TRUISM. 


can,  therefore,  in  no  case  be  actually 
surprising  that  affliction  should  come, 
because  even  the  most  righteous  are  so 
far  from  perfect,  that,  to  their  dying 
day,  they  will  need  corrective  discipline. 
Where  then,  in  strict  truth,  is  the  mys- 
teriousness  of  a  dispensation,  if  we  can 
always  see  the  designed  advantageous- 
ness  1  There  is  something  of  contradic- 
tion here.  The  Christian  tells  me  that 
the  death  of  his  child  is  a  dark  dealing 
— wherefore  dark,  if  himself  confesses 
that  he  is  not  yet  refined,  as  he  should 
be,  from  the  dross  of  this  earth,  and, 
therefore,  has  further  need  of  passing 
through  the  furnace  l  He  may  not  be 
able  to  trace  a  connexion  between  the 
particular  sorrow  and  some  particular 
sin  :  he  may  not,  that  is,  be  able  to  as- 
sign any  one  special  reason  for  any  one 
special  affliction — and  so  far  there  might 
be  mystery,  were  it,  indeed,  his  business 
to  affix  to  every  stripe  an  individual 
cause — but  he  can  see  clearly  enough 
that  he  requires  chastisement  in  the 
general  ;  and  how  then  can  it  be  mys- 
terious that  chastisement  should  come  ] 

And  we  cannot  but  feel,  that,  in  a 
variety  of  instances,  this  speaking  of 
the  mysteriousness  of  a  common  dis- 
pensation, indicates  a  secret  doubt  as  to 
the  goodness  or  fitness  of  the  dispensa- 
tion :  men  would  not  be  so  ready  to  call 
a  thing  inexplicable,  if,  all  the  while, 
they  felt  that  it  was  wisely  and  benevo- 
lently ordered.  We  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  a  Christian  may  not,  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  regard  a  dealing  as  mys- 
terious, and  feel  it  to  be  good :  but 
where  mysteriousness  is  ascribed  to 
that  for  which  there  is  evidently  reason 
in  abundance,  we  have  ground  to  sus- 
pect that  there  is  no  real  persuasion  of 
there  being  such  reason  at  all.  And 
judge  ye  yourselves,  ye  to  whom  God 
has  been  pleased  to  allot  much  of  sor- 
row, whether  ye  have  not  cherished  a 
secret  suspicion  that  ye  were  dealt  with 
in  a  manner  not  to  have  been  looked 
for  from  One  who  knew  your  frame,  and 
remembered  that  ye  were  dust ;  wheth- 
er ye  have  not  used  what  ye  have  called 
the  darkness  of  the  dispensation,  to 
cover  a  doubt,  if  not  a  denial,  of  its 
goodness  1 

We  would  have  you  call  to  mind  your 
misgivings,  when  some  beloved  object 
has  lain  dead  in  your  houses,  or  your 
rebellious  questionings  when  trouble  of 


one  kind  or  another  has  made  way  into 
your  families  ;  and  you  will  hardly,  we 
think,  be  able  to  deny,  that,  in  seasons 
of  affliction,  there  is  a  tendency,  in  the 
face  of  all  the  testimony  of  Scripture 
and  experience,  towards  disbelieving  the 
fundamental  attributes  of  God,  or  re- 
garding his  dispensations  as  at  variance 
with  his  perfections.  Ah,  if  you  want 
evidence  that  the  apparition,  in  bringing 
the  very  simplest  and  most  elementary 
of  messages,  brought  what  was  worthy 
of  a  supernatural  conveyance,  you  might 
often  find  that  evidence  in  the  chamber 
of  some  mourner  who  is  weeping  for 
the  dead.  It  may  be  that  yonder  moth- 
er, as  she  looks  on  the  rigid  pale  face 
of  her  child,  imagines  herself  resigned, 
and  professes  her  persuasion  that  God 
hath  smitten  her  in  love.  But  doubts 
are  struggling  in  her  mind;  the  afflic- 
tion seems  to  her  inexplicable  :  she 
cannot  understand  why  she  should  have 
been  thus  visited  :  the  Bible,  indeed, 
assures  her  of  the  compassion,  the  ten- 
derness, of  the  Almighty  ;  but  she  turns 
from  comforting  texts  to  the  sad  spec- 
tacle before  her — so  young,  so  beautiful, 
so  gentle,  would  not  a  merciful  being 
have  spared  awhile  that  sweet  flower  1 
— and  then  the  tears,  which  the  light  of 
revelation  had  almost  dried,  break  forth 
again,  and,  though  taken  for  the  gush- 
ings  of  nature,  are  i-ather  the  flowings 
of  unbelief. 

Now  is  it  not  certain  that  this  dis- 
tracted and  sorrowing  parent  requires 
to  have  impressed  upon  her  the  most 
elementary  of  truths,  that  God  cannot 
do  wrong,  that  He  cannot  do  other  than 
the  best  i  Whatever  her  theory,  it  is 
practically  this  truth  of  which  she  wants 
persuasion ;  it  is  this  truth  in  which 
she  has  no  thorough  belief.  And  if, 
then,  it  were  to  please  God  to  vouch- 
safe her  a  supernatural  communication, 
would  it  not  be  worthy  of  God,  would 
not  the  supernatural  machinery  be  fitly 
employed,  if  the  message  were  nothing 
more  than  that  sent  to  Eliphaz  1  She 
has  the  Bible:  she  has  the  revelation  of 
the  Gospel :  but,  notwithstanding  these, 
she  is  secretly  distrustful  of  God,  and 
inclined  to  arraign  the  goodness  of  his 
dealings.  Then  I  do  not  know,  that,  as 
she  sits  there,  and  wails  over  the  dead, 
a  shadowy  thing  will  pass  before  her, 
and  bring  words  from  above.  But  this 
I  know — that,  if  an  apparition  were  to 


THE   SPECTRF.   S    SEUMOX   A  TRUISM. 


169 


enter,  and  stand,  in  its  unearthliness,  at 
the  side  of  the  coffin  where  her  child 
lies  so  still,  the  most  appropriate  mes- 
sage which  the  spectre  could  deliver, 
would  be  the  simple  one  which  was 
brought  so  thrillingly  to  Eliphaz.  Ay, 
that  mother  might  rush  from  her  cham- 
ber with  the  scared  and  wan  look  of 
one  who  had  gazed  on  the  being  of 
another  sphere ;  and  she  might  relate 
to  me,  circumstantially  and  convincingly, 
how,  in  the  darkened  room,  and  amid 
that  silence  which  is  the  more  oppres- 
sive because  it  makes  every  sob  so  dis- 
tinct, she  had  been  confronted  by  a  form 
whose  very  mystery  proved  it  an  inhabi- 
tant of  the  invisible  world.  But  when 
she  had  collected  herself  sufficiently  to 
tell  me  what  the  spectre  had  said,  I 
should  expect  to  hear  nothing  of  new 
revelation,  nothing  as  to  the  state  of  the 
departed,  nothing  as  to  the  happiness 
of  heaven.  I  should  expect,  as  most 
precisely  what  she  needed,  and  there- 
fore as  most  likely  to  be  thus  strangely 
transmitted,  that  the  apparition,  which 
had  made  the  hair  of  her  flesh  stand  up, 
would  have  left  these  words  printed  on 
her  mind,  "  Shall  mortal  man  be  more 
just  than  God  ]  shall  a  man  be  more 
pure  than  his  Maker  ]  " 

And  thus  we  may,  perhaps,  have  done 
something  towards  removing  the  appear- 
ance of  disproportion  between  the  ve- 
hicle employed  and  the  message  con- 
veyed— the  vehicle  supernatural,  the 
message  the  most  simple,  and  apparent- 
ly not  needing  the  being  delivered  at 
all.  I  do  not  know  whether  you  may 
have  been  used  to  observe  the  dispro- 
portion ;  but,  certainly,  to  my  own 
mind  it  is  very  striking.  T  almost  trem- 
ble at  the  description  which  Eliphaz 
gives  of  the  spirit.  I  feel  sure  that  this 
dim  and  awful  visitant  must  have  come 
for  a  momentous  and  extraordinary  pur- 
pose. I  prepare  myself,  accordingly, 
to  hear  from  his  lips  some  deep, 
majestic,  and  perhaps  inscrutable, 
truth — when,  lo,  there  is  nothing  ut- 
tered but  what  every  child  knows,  what 
every  one  believes,  in  believing  a 
God.  Our  great  object  has  been  to 
show  you,  that,  simple  as  the  truth 
is,  and  unhesitatingly  acknowledged, 
it  is  nevertheless  one  in  regard  of 
which  there  is  a  prevalent,  though 
secret  unbelief,  so  that  an  apparition 
would  not  be  employed  on  what  did  not 


need  the  being  supernaturally  taught,  if 
employed  to  enforce  so  elementary  a 
proposition. 

And  there  is  one  general  inference 
which  we  wish  to  draw  from  the  appa- 
rent, though  not  actual  disproportion. 
It  is  this — that  truths,  which  we  never 
think  of  disputing,  may  be  those  which 
practically  we  are  most  in  the  habit  of 
forgetting.  It  is  of  well-known  things 
that  a  spectre  must  speak  to  us,  if  it 
would  speak  of  what  it  is  important  that 
we  know.  The  apparition  is  not  need- 
ed to  impart  new  truth,  but  to  impress 
old.  O  strange  but  actual  condition  of 
man — that,  if  a  spirit  were  sent  to  him 
with  a  message  for  his  good,  it  would 
be  only  of  things  with  which  he  has  long 
been  familiar.  The  apparition  enters 
the  chamber  of  the  man  of  pleasure — 
what  says  it  to  the  terrified  voluptuary  ] 
"All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of 
man  as  the  flower  of  grass.  "  Why,  he 
knew  this  before ;  he  has  heard  it  a 
thousand  times — yes;  but  this  is  what 
he  practically  disbelieves  :  he  lives  as 
though  he  were  not  to  die,  and,  there- 
fore, what  he  needs  from  the  apparition 
is  the  being  told  his  mortality.  The 
gliding  spectre  goes  stealthily  to  the 
side  of  a  miser  ;  as  the  wealthy  accumu- 
lator cowers  and  quails  before  the  phan- 
tom, in  what  words  is  he  addressed  % 
"  We  brought  nothing  into  the  world, 
and  it  is  certain  that  we  can  carry  no- 
thing out ;  " — why,  this  is  no  news  : 
must  the  sheeted  dead  come  back  to 
tell  a  man  this  ]  no  news,  indeed — yet 
this  is  what  the  covetous  practically  dis- 
believes ;  he  hoards  as  though  his  riches 
were  to  go  with  him  into  eternity  ;  and 
therefore  would  the  apparition  be  em- 
ployed to  the  most  necessary  end,  if 
employed  to  give  impressiveness  to  the 
very  tritest  of  truths. 

It  is  the  same  in  every  other  instance. 
With  every  one  of  vis  there  is  some  sim- 
ple truth  about  which  there  is  no  dis- 
pute, but  to  which  there  is  no  power  ; 
and  if  a  spectre  were  sent  with  a  mes- 
sage, it  would  be  this  truth  which  it 
would  be  most  for  our  advantage  that  it 
should  deliver ;  the  delivery  being  need- 
ed, not  to  increase  our  knowledge,  but 
to  make  the  knowledge  influential. 
Alas  !  alas  !  is  not  this  true  in  regard 
of  all  the  uncontroverted  in  the  present 
assembly  1  Spirits  of  the  dead,  appear 
amongst  us.     Rise  as  shadowy,  vapory 


170 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


things,  and  preach,  in  the  name  of  the 
living  God,  to  the  men  and  the  women 
who  yet  care  nothing  for  their  souls. 
What  will  they  say  1  "  Except  ye  re- 
pent, ye  shaft  all  likewise  perish. " 
Why,  I  have  preached  this  to  you  a 
hundred  times  :  ye  have  heard  it,  till  ye 
are  wearied  by  the  repetition.  And 
yet,  if  we  want  spectres  at  all,  we  want 
them  only  to  deliver  this  common-place 
truth  :  it  might  be  effectual,  as  breathed 
by  their  wild  strange  voices,  though  of- 
ten uttered  without  avail  by  mine. 

So  that,  it  is  not  to  tell  you  what  is 
new,  but  to  make  you  feel  what  is  old, 
that  we  would  invoke  the  phantoms, 
and  beseech  them  to  arise.  But  they 
come  not — why  should  they  1  ye  must 
be  self-condemned,  if  your  remaining  in 
danger  of  everlasting  death  be  only 
through  your  not  acting  on  your  know- 
ledge. It  is  not  a  revelation  which  you 
need  :  and  therefore  must  you  not  ex- 


pect that  God  will  depart  from  ordinary 
rules,  and  send  aerial  beings  to  make 
revelation  more  impressive.  The  spirits 
will  not  appear  now,  to  force  you  to 
accept  what  you  make  light  of  when 
offered  through  the  ministrations  of  your 
fellow  men.  But  the  spirits  shall  appear 
hereafter.  "  Ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands  " 
shall  be  around  the  Judge.  They  shall 
attest  the  equity  of  the  sentence  which 
dooms  to  destruction  those  who  have 
put  from  them  pardon  through  Christ. 
I  hear  the  words  that  were  heard  by 
Eliphaz — if,  for  a  moment,  those  ap- 
pointed to  the  fire  and  the  shame  at- 
tempt to  arraign  the  justice  of  their 
portion,  a  voice  like  the  voice  of  many 
thunderings,  or  of  mighty  waters,  bursts 
from  the  throng,  the  countless  throng,  of 
spirits,  "  Shall  mortal  man  be  morejust 
than  God  1  shall  man  be  more  pure  than 
his  Maker  1  " 


SERMON    V 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


Many  of  the  people  therefore,  when  they  heard  this  savin?,  said,  Of  a  truth  this  is  the  Prophet.  Others  said,  This 
is  the  Christ.  But  some  said,  Shall  Christ  come  out  oY  Galilee  ?  Hath  not  the  Scripture  said,  That  Christ  cometh 
of  the  seed  of  David,  aud  out  of  the  town  of  Bethlehem,  where  David  was?  " — St.  John  vii.  40,  41,  42. 


We  often  speak  of  the  great  changes 
and  revolutions  which  have  occurred  in 
the  world :  history  is  considered  as  lit- 
tle else  than  the  record  of  the  rise  and 
fall  of  communities,  families,  and  indi- 
viduals. But,  throughout  the  long  se- 
ries of  vicissitudes,  there  may  be  traced 
much  of  what  is  permanent  and  perpet- 
ual ;  so  that,  probably,  sameness  or  uni- 
formity is  as  truly  the  characteristic  of 
human  history  as  variety  or  diversity.  It 
may,  for  example,  be  always  ascertain- 
ed by  a  careful  observer,  that  the  same 


principles  have  pervaded  God's  moral 
government  :  amid  all  changes  and 
chances,  it  can  be  seen  that  an  overruling 
providence  has  been  at  work,  guiding 
the  complicated  instrumentality,  and  di- 
recting it  to  the  futherance  of  certain 
fixed  purposes  and  ends.  It  may  also 
be  perceived  that  the  elements  of  human 
character  have  throughout  been  the 
same  :  man  has  changed  in  his  fortune 
and  position,  but  not  in  himself:  you 
find  him  in  the  most  opposite  conditions, 
according:  as  civilization  is  advanced  or 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS. 


171 


tlefective,  according  as  power  is  be- 
stowed or  withheld  ;  but  you  never  find 
him  other  than  a  creature  inclined  to 
evil,  and  not  liking  to  "  retain  God  in 
his  thoughts.  " 

This  sameness  in  human  character 
might  be  traced  in  the  minutest  parti- 
culars. Not  but  what  there  are  many 
and  marked  differences  between  the  sa- 
vage, and  the  man  of  a  polished  age  and 
community  ;  but  they  are  not  differences 
in  the  staple,  so  to  speak,  of  the  moral 
constitution;  you  might  in  any  given 
case  make  the  one  out  of  the  other,  and 
still  have  the  same  enmity  to  God  and 
to  righteousness,  because  you  would 
still  have  the  same  depraved  heart.  And 
forasmuch  as  the  human  heart,  in  its  un- 
renewed state,  has  all  along  been  the 
same,  answering  always  to  the  scriptural 
description,  "deceitful  above  all  things 
and  desperately  wicked,"  there  can  be 
no  surprise  that  so  great  sameness  may 
be  traced  in  man  himself,  notwithstand- 
ing the  perpetual  shiftiugs  of  his  con- 
dition :  you  can  expect  nothing  but  that, 
when  viewed  as  the  creature  of  God,  he 
should  exhibit  the  same  prejudice,  op- 
position, and  dislike  ;  make  similar  ob- 
jections to  the  divine  dealings,  and  jus- 
tify unbelief  by  similar  fallacies. 

It  were  beside  our  purpose  to  go  into 
evidence,  on  the  present  occasion,  of  the 
moral,  or  religious  sameness,  which  may 
be  traced,  we  affirm,  throughout  the  his- 
tory of  man.  But  our  text,  relating,  as 
it  does,  opinions  and  debatings  of  the 
Jews  with  regard  to  our  Lord,  will  give 
us  great  opportunities  of  observing  this 
sameness  in  some  particular  cases.  We 
shall  probably  find  that  the  sort  of  rea- 
soning, by  which  the  claims  of  Chris- 
tianity were  parried  at  its  first  introduc- 
tion, is  still  practised  amongst  ourselves  : 
we  may  be  compelled  to  say  that  men 
are  what  they  were  more  than  eighteen 
hundred  years  back,  on#discovering  that 
the  grounds  of  scepticism  are  but  little 
shifted;  that  modern  indifference,  or 
unbelief,  borrows  from  ancient  its  form 
and  apology. 

Leaving  this,  however,  to  open  upon 
us  as  we  advance  with  our  subject — or 
rather,  preparing  you  by  it  to  expect 
that  we  shall  turn  much  of  our  discourse 
on  resemblances  between  the  Jews  and 
ourselves — we  will  go  straightway  to  the 
scene  presented  by  the  text  :  we  will 
hearken   to   the  various  and  conflicting 


sentiments  which  are  being  expressed 
in  regard  of  our  Redeemer;  and  we 
will  see  whether  we  may  not  find  mat- 
ter of  instruction  and  warning,  as  some 
call  Him  the  Prophet,  some  the  Christ 
whilst  others  are  asking,  whether  il  I  < 
not  indeed  contrary  to  Scripture,  tl,;i 
the  Christ  should  come  out  of  Galileo 

Now  the  first  parties  introduced  inh 
our  text,  are  those  who  were  dispose* 
to  recognize  in  our  Lord  a  teacher  sen 
from  God:  for  though  it  is  not  quit* 
clear  whom  they  intended  by  "  the  Pro 
phet  " — whether  Him  of.  whom  Moset 
had  spoken,  "a  Prophet  shall  the  Ivor* 
your  God  raise  up  unto  you  of  youi 
brethren,  like  unto  me,."  and  who  wat 
none  other  than  Messiah  Himself;  01 
whether  that  Prophet  who  was  gene 
rally  expected  as  the  forerunner  of  the 
Messiah — there  can  be  no  question  that 
they  meant  some  one  with  a  commission 
from  above,  some  instructor,  authorised 
by  God  to  deliver  intimations  of  his  pur 
pose  and  will.  Probably,  indeed,  they 
who  call  our  Lord  "the  Prophet,"  did 
not  thereby  mean  the  Christ ;  for  the 
Evangelist  makes  two  classes,  those 
who  confessed  "the  Prophet"  in  out 
Savior,  and  those  who  confessed  the 
Christ;  and  this  he  would  hardly  have 
done,  had  the  same  personage  been  in- 
tended, but  under  different  names.  If. 
either  case,  however, — and  this  is  all 
with  which  we  are  at  present  concern 
ed — a  teacher  with  divine  authority  was 
evidently  recognized  :  something  had 
been  done,  or  said,  by  our  Lord,  which 
produced  a  conviction — though  it  may 
have  been  only  transient,  and  without 
practical  results — that  He  was  no  de- 
ceiver, no  enthusiast ;  but  that  He  spake 
in  God's  name,  and  bore  his  commis- 
sion. 

And  it  will  be  very  interesting  to  ob- 
serve what  had  been  the  immediate  pro- 
ducing cause  of  this  conviction  ;  for  we 
so  generally  find  our  Lord  treated  with 
contempt  and  neglect,  his  miracles  be- 
ing ascribed  to  Beelzebub,  and  his  dis- 
courses listened  to  with  apparent  indif- 
ference, that  we  naturally  look  for  some- 
thing very  memorable  in  the  doing  or 
the  saying,  which  could  influence  the 
multitude  to  regard  with  favor  his  claims. 

It  was  not,  as  you  learn  from  the  first 
verse  of  our  text,  any  action  of  Christ 
which  wrought  this  effect :  He  had  not 
just  then  been  working  one  of  his  more 


172 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS. 


stupendous  miracles ;  though  this,  you 
may  think,  would  most  readily  have  ex- 
plained the  sudden  conviction  of  his  be- 
ing Messiah.  The  effect  is  expressly 
attributed  to  a  "saying"  of  our  Lord. 
"  Many  of  the  people  therefore,  when 
they  beard  this  saying,  said,  Of  a  truth 
this  is  the  Prophet."  And  what  was 
the  wonder-working  saying  1  Those  of 
you  who  do  not  remember,  will  be  apt 
to  imagine  that  the  saying  must  have 
been  one  of  extraordinary  power,  some 
mighty  assertion  of  divinity,  or,  perhaps, 
some  verification  in  himself  of  ancient 
prophecy,  too  complete  and  striking  to 
be  resisted,  even  by  Jewish  unbelief. 
Certainly  were  it  put  to  us  to  conjec- 
ture a  saying  by  which  Christ  was  likely 
to  have  overcome  for  a  time  the  general 
infidelity,  it  would  be  natural  for  us  to 
fix  on  some  sublime  and  magnificent 
announcement,  some  application  of 
Scripture,  or  some  declaration  of  su- 
premacy, which  carried  with  it  startling 
evidence  of  unearthly  authority.  And 
we  are  far  from  wishing  to  imply  that 
the  actual  saying  of  our  Lord  was  not 
of  the  kind  which  would  be  thus  readily 
supposed ;  but  at  first  sight,  at  least,  it 
scarcely  seems  such  as  might  have  na- 
turally been  expected.  You  find  the 
saying  in  the  thirty-seventh  verse  of  the 
chapter.  "In  the  last  day,  that  great 
day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried, 
saying,  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come 
unto  me,  and  drink."  This  was  the 
wonder-working  saying.  Our  Lord  in- 
deed proceeded,  in  the  following  verse, 
to  bear  out,  as  it  were,  the  saying  by  a 
quotation  from  ancient  Scripture,  "  He 
that  believeth  on  me,  as  the  Scripture 
hath  said,  out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers 
of  living  water."  But  it  is  evident  enough 
that  this  is  only  given  in  illustration,  or 
vindication  of  the  saying;  so  that  still 
the  saying,  on  which  many  of  the  people 
yielded,  was  the  simple  invitation  in  the 
thirty-seventh  verse. 

And  it  ought  not  to  be  overlooked, 
that,  before  the  Evangelist  describes  the 
effect  of  the  saying  on  the  people,  he  in- 
troduces, in  a  parenthesis,  a  comment 
on  the  saying.  It  is  very  unusual  with 
the  sacred  writers  to  affix  any  explana- 
tion of  the  meaning  of  our  Lord  ;  but 
this  is  one  of  the  rare  cases  in  which  a 
commentary  is  subjoined  ;  for  St.  John 
adds,  "  But  this  spake  he  of  the  Spirit 
which  thev  that   believe  on  him  should 


receive  :  for  the  Holy  Ghost  was  not  yet 
given,  because  that  Jesus  was  not  vet 
glorified."  This  is  very  observable,  be- 
cause, by  adding  an  explanation  of  the 
saying,  the  Evangelist  would  seem  to 
imply  that  it  was,  in  a  measure,  difficult 
or  obscure  :  nevertheless,  it  wrought 
with  surprising  energy  on  a  great  mass 
of  hearers  :  simple  as  it  -seems  to  us, 
dark  as,  in  some  respects,  it  must  have 
been  counted  by  St.  John,  it  succeeded 
at  once,  if  not  in  permanently  attaching 
numbers  to  Christ's  side,  yet  in  wring- 
ing from  them  a  confession  that  He 
could  be  none  other  than  a  divinely  sent 
teacher.  Here,  then,  we  have  a  point 
of  very  gi-eat  interest  to  examine.  Let 
us  separate  it  from  the  remainder  of  the 
text,  and  set  ourselves  simply  to  con- 
sider what  there  was  in  the  saying  which 
our  Lord  had  uttered,  to  induce  many 
of  the  people  to  exclaim,  "  Of  a  truth 
this  is  the  Prophet,  and  others,  This  is 
the  Christ." 

Now  you  will  observe  at  once,  that 
the  saying  before  us  is  one  of  those  gra- 
cious invitations,  into  which  may  be  said 
to  be  gathered  the  whole  Gospel  of 
Christ.  It  demands,  indeed,  a  sense  of 
want,  the  feeling  of  thirst:  but  if  there 
be  this,  it  proffers  an  abundant  supply. 
"  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto 
me  and  drink."  And  by  adding  a  refer- 
ence to  Scriptures,  which,  though  not 
then  fully  understood,  could  only  be  in- 
terpreted of  some  measure  and  kind  of 
supernatural  influence,  our  blessed  Lord 
may  be  considered  as  intimating,  that 
what  He  promised  to  the.  thirsty  was  a 
spiritual  gift,  the  satisfying  of  desires  af- 
ter God  and  immortality.  Whatever  the 
degree  in  which  the  promise  may  have 
been  understood,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  it  was  received  as  relating  to  com- 
munications of  Divine  grace,  that  it  was 
thought,  or  felt,  to  convey  assurance  of 
instruction  in  the  knowledge  of  God, 
and  of  assistance  in  the  great  business 
of  saving  the  soul. 

Here  is  the  moral  thirst,  to  which 
every  one  must  have  been  conscious 
that  our  Lord  had  respect,  and  which  is 
not  to  be  slaked  at  the  springs  of  human 
science,  or  of  natural  theology.  And  if 
there  were  many,  as  there  may  have 
been,  in  the  throng  surrounding  Christ, 
on  the  last  and  great  day  of  the  feast, 
who,  dissatisfied  with  the  traditions  of 
the  elders,  felt  the  need  of  burlier  teach- 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


173 


ing  in  order  to  acquaintance  with  hea- 
venly things,  we  may  quite  understand 
how  the  gracious  promise  of  living  wa- 
ters would  come  home  to  them,  as  meet- 
ing their  wants  ;  and  how  the  felt  suita- 
bleness of  the  offer  would  pass  with 
them  as  an  argument  for  the  Divine  mis- 
sion of  Him  by  whom  it  was  made. 

There  is  no  difference  here,  according 
to  our  introductory  remarks,  between 
past  days  and  our  own  :  we  have  but  to 
transfer  the  scene  to  ourselves,  and  the 
like  invitation  may  produce  the  like  ef- 
fect. For  the  argument  herein  involved 
is,  after  all,  but  that  on  which  we  have 
often  ti)  touch,  and  which  is  based  on 
what  we  call  the  self-evidencing  power 
of  the  Bible,  the  power  which  there  is 
in  it,  quite  apart  from  outward  creden- 
tials, of  commending  itself  to  the  con- 
science as  the  word  of  the  Almighty.  You 
are  all  aware  of  the  difference  between 
the  external  and  the  internal  evidence 
for  the  truth  of  Christianity.  There  is 
a  vast  mass  of  external  evidence  in 
miracles  which  have  been  wrought,  and 
prophecies  which  have  been  accom- 
plished. But  there  is  also  a  vast  mass 
of  internal  evidence,  in  the  suitableness 
of  the  revealed  doctrines  to  man's  ascer- 
tained wants,  in  the  exactness  with 
which  the  proposed  remedy  meets  the 
known  disease.  One  man  may  be  con- 
vinced of  the  Divine  mission  of  a  teach- 
er, by  seeing  him  work  wonders  which 
surpass  human  power ;  another,  by  hear- 
ing him  deliver  truths  which  surpass 
human  discovery.  A  religion  may  com- 
mend itself  to  me  as  having  God  for  its 
author,  either  by  prodigies  wrought  in 
its  support,  or  by  the  nicety  with  which 
it  fits  in  to  the  whole  mental  and  moral 
constitution,  to  the  complicated  wants, 
and  the  restless  cravings,  of  a  soul  which 
has  sought  in  vain  every  where  else  for 
supply  and  direction. 

And  this  latter  is  the  standing  witness 
for  the  Bible.  The  sinner  who  is  con- 
scious of  exposure  to  the  wrath  of  God, 
and  of  utter  inability  in  himself  to  ward 
off  destruction,  will  find  in  Christ  so 
precisely  the  Savior  whom  he  needs, 
and  in  the  proffered  aid  of  the  Spirit  so 
exactly  the  help  adapted  to  his  circum- 
stances, that  there  will  seem  to  him  no 
room  for  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  the 
Gospel :  like  parts  of  one  and  the  same 
curious  and  intricate  machine,  the  Bible, 
and  the  human  conscience  and  heart,  so 


|  fit  in  to  each  other,  that  there  must  have 
been  the  same  Author  to  all :  it  is  felt, 
even  where  there  is  no  external  demon- 
stration, that  He  who  wrote  the  book, 
must  have  been  He  who  made  the  man. 

We  do  not,  of  course,  mean  that  this 
self-evidencing  power  of  Scripture  will 
commend  itself  to  all  with  the  same 
readiness,  and  urgency,  as  might  a  visi- 
ble miracle  performed  in  its  support. 
There  is  required  a  peculiar  state  of 
mind,  in  order  to  the  appreciating  the 
internal  testimony :  it  springs  mainly 
from  the  correspondence  between  the 
remedy  and  the  disease,  and  cannot, 
therefore,  be  detected  except  where  the 
disease  has  been  felt.  And  you  observe, 
accordingly,  that  the  saying  of  our  Lord, 
which  is  now  under  review,  supposes  a 
sense  of  deficiency,  or  a  feeling  of  want : 
it  invites  only  the  thirsty  :  the  thirsty 
alone  will  be  inclined  to  hearken  to  it : 
but  the  thirsty  will  be  attracted  by  its 
proferring  exactly  what  they  feel  that 
they  need.  Thus  with  the  everlasting 
Gospel.  It  proposes  a  Savior  to  lost 
sinners :  they  who  feel  themselves  lost 
sinners  will  quickly  discern  in  Christ 
such  a  Savior  as  they  need  :  they  who 
are  altogether  void  of  such  a.  feeling  will 
find  in  Him  "  no  form,  nor  comeliness  ;  " 
and  if  overcome  by  the  external  evi- 
dence for  the  truth  of  Christianity,  will 
merely  assent  to  it  as  to  a  barren  specu- 
lation, a  question  of  history,  about  which, 
even  when  professedly  convinced,  they 
remain  practically  indifferent. 

There  is  probably  enough  in  these  re- 
marks to  explain  why  it  should  have 
been  on  the  hearing  a  certain  saying  of 
our  Lord,  as  is  expressly  noted  by  the 
Evangelist,  that  many  of  the  people 
were  disposed  to  own  Him  for  the  Christ. 
Do  you  wonder  that  such  an  effect 
should  not  rather  have  followed  on  the 
working  of  some  miracle,  than  on  the 
utterance  of  some  saying  ]  Nay — you 
are  to  observe  that  there  is  a  state  of 
mind,  a  state  aptly  delineated  by  the 
imagery  of  thirst,  which  is  more  acces- 
sible to  an  appropriate  doctrine  than  to 
any  outward  demonstration  :  the  thirsty 
man  feels  the  suitableness  of  a  promise 
of  water,  and  is  at  once  disposed  to  close 
with  the  proffer,  without  waiting  for 
signs  that  He  who  makes  it  has  author- 
ity to  deal  with  his  case. 

But,  admitting  that  a  doctrine  may 
prevail  where   even   a  miracle   has    no 


174 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS. 


power,  do  you  next  wonder  that  the 
saying,  which  wrought  with  so  great 
energy,  should  have  been  so  simple  and 
unpretending  as  it  is  ]  Nay — we  set 
against  this  opinion  the  whole  of  what 
has  been  advanced  as  to  the  self-evi- 
dencing power  of  the  Bible.  I  have 
right  to  assume  that  there  were  many 
in  the  crowd  who  thirsted  ;  and  Christ 
could  not  have  spoken  more  immediately 
to  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  such  as 
thirsted,  than  by  inviting  them  to  come 
to  Him  that  they  might  drink.  Who 
thirsts'?  the  man  who,  feeling  himself  a 
sinner,  pants  for  the  forgiveness  of  his 
sins.  The  man  who,  conscious  of  ina- 
bility, longs  to  be  assisted  in  turning 
unto  God.  The  man  who,  made  aware 
of  his  immortality,  craves  endless  hap- 
piness. The  man  who,  taught  that  God 
is  just,  seeks  eagerly  to  discover  whe- 
ther He  can  be  also  the  justifier  of  the 
fallen.  What  will  these  thirsty  ones 
listen  to  most  readily?  in  what  words 
will  they  be  most  disposed  to  recognize 
the  voice  and  the  authority  of  truth  1 
Certainly,  as  no  message  will  so  much 
meet  their  need,  none  will  so  much 
commend  itself  to  them  as  proceeding 
from  God  who  best  knows  their  wants, 
as  that  which  shows  how  thirst  may  be 
satisfied,  how  the  longing  for  forgive- 
ness, for  righteousness,  for  happiness, 
on  the  part  of  sinful  creatures,  may  be 
appeased  without  violence,  nay,  rather, 
with  honor,  to  Divine  justice  and  purity. 
And  though  Christ  did  not  go  into  all 
these  particulars,  there  was  that  in  his 
saying  which  addressed  itself  to  every 
case  of  spiritual  thirst ;  which  no  thirsty 
man  could  fail  to  take  to  himself;  so 
that  you  have  only  to  suppose  that  many 
were  thirsting  in  the  crowd,  and  you 
suppose  many  to  whom  the  invitation 
must  have  come  home  with  the  self- 
evidencing  power  which  we  claim  for 
the  Gospel.  If  there  were  not  enough, 
in  so  brief  and  unexplained  a  saying, 
to  prove  that  Christ  came  from  God, 
there  was  enough  to  incline  those, 
who  were  conscious  of  spiritual  wants, 
to  receive  teaching  from  One  who  offer- 
ed the  very  thing  of  which  they  were 
in  quest.  If  the  simple  invitation  were 
not  likely,  of  itself,  to  convince  such  as 
had  not  heard  of  Him  before  of  his  be- 
ing the  Messiah,  yet,  when  it  came  upon 
anxious  and  craving  minds,  which  had 
already  been  moved  by  the  fame  of  his 


miracles,  it  was  adapted  to  scatter  all 
doubts,  and  to  turn  into  full  persuasion 
the  growing  conjecture.  Miracles,  of 
themselves,  cannot  prove  a  Divine  mis- 
sion :  they  must  be  wrought  in  defence 
of  truth;  otherwise  we  may  not  ascribe 
them  to  the  finger  of  God.  But  He 
who,  having  worked  miracles  to  fix  at- 
tention on  his  doctrine,  then  proceeded 
to  utter  doctrine  which  was  as  water  to 
the  parched  and  wearied  soul  of  man — 
oh,  he  indeed  left  no  place  for  unbelief, 
save  with  those  who  were  hewing  out 
broken  cisterns  for  themselves,  or  fan- 
cying that  they  could  call  up  fountains 
of  their  own  in  the  desert.  And  thus, 
if  it  could  only  have  been  in  an  imper- 
fect degree  that  the-  self-evidencing 
power,  which  is*  now  so  energetic;  in 
Scripture,  resided  in  the  short  saying  to 
which  these  remarks  have  respect,  you 
have  only  to  bring  into  account  the  ac- 
tual state  of  the  multitude,  as  not  unac- 
quainted with  the  supernatural  works 
performed  by  our  Lord,  and  you  have 
explanation  enough  why  so  great  a  dis- 
position to  acknowledge  Him  was  called 
forth  by  what  He  uttered  on  the  last  day 
of  the  feast,  why  many  of  the  people, 
when  they  heard  that  saying,  said,  "  Of 
a  truth,  this  is  the  Prophet,  or  this  is 
the  Christ." 

But  now  let  us  mix  again  with  the 
crowd,  and  hearken  to  some  other  of 
the  opinions  which  a?e  being  passed  to 
and  fro  in  regard  of  our  Savior.  There 
is  nothing  like  uniformity  of  sentiment : 
they  who  are  inclined  to  conclude  that 
He  can  be  none  other  than  the  long- 
promised  Christ,  find  themselves  met 
with  objections,  objections  which  are  all 
the  more  formidable,  because  professing 
to  ground  themselves  on  Scripture. 
"  But  some  said,  Shall  Christ  come  out 
of  Galilee  1  "  There  is  no  attempt  at 
invalidating  the  miracles,  or  depreciating 
the  doctrines  of  our  Lord  ;  but  lu^re 
was  a  fatal  argument,  as  these  men  urged, 
against  his  being  the  Messiah,  an  ar- 
gument deduced  from  ancient  prophecy, 
winch  had  expressly  fixed  the  birthplace 
and  lineage  of  Christ.  "Hath  not  the 
scripture  said,  That  Christ  cometh  of 
the  seed  of  David,  and  out  of  the  town 
of  Bethlehem,  where  David  was  1  " 

No  doubt,  Scripture  had  said  this; 
and  it  would  have  been  an  insuperable 
objection  to  the  claims  of  any  one,  pro- 
fessing himself  the  Messiah,  that  he  had 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS. 


175 


not  sprung  of  David's  line,  or  not  been 
born  in  Bethlehem.  If  our  Lord  had 
come  out  of  Galilee,  in  the  sense  sap- 
posed  by  those  who  made  the  objection, 
it  would  be  of  no  avail  to  multiply  proofs 
of  his  having  been  the  Christ  :  the  evi- 
dence is  against  Him  on  one  material 
point,  and  the  defect  is  not  to  be  coun- 
terbalanced by  any  amount  of  testimony 
on  other  particulars. 

But  this  is  really  among  the  most  sur- 
prising instances  on  record,  of  ignorance 
or  inattention,  if  we  may  not  go  further, 
and  accuse  men  of  wilfully  and  unblush- 
ingly  upholding  what  they  knew  to  be 
false.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  imagine 
a  matter  of  fact  that  might  have  been 
more  readily  ascertained,  than  that  our 
Lordhad  been  born  at  Bethlehem,  and 
that  his  mother  and  reputed  father  were 
of  the  lineage  of  David.  For  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  innocents,  by  the  cruel  or- 
det  of  the  tyrannical  Herod,  had  made 
his  birth  so  conspicuous,  that  it  almost 
passes  charity,  that  any  could  have  been 
ignorant  that  He  had  not  sprung  from 
Galilee.  At  all  events,  when  his  parent- 
age and  birthplace  were  associated  with 
so  bloody  a  tragedy,  a  tragedy  which 
could  not  yet  have  faded  from  the  popu- 
lar mind,  the  very  slightest  inquiry  would 
have  sufficed  to  correct  so  gross  a  mis- 
apprehension. It  has  always  seemed  as 
if  God,  in  his  over-ruling  Providence, 
made  the  fury  of  Herod  subserve  the 
cause  of  the  Gospel ;  for  there  was  no 
one  left  but  our  Lord,  who  could  prove 
Himself  to  have  been  born  in  Bethlehem 
on  the  expiration  of  Daniel's  weeks  of 
years  :  all  others,  born  about  that  time, 
had  perished  by  the  sword;  and,  there- 
fore, either  He  were  the  Messiah,  or 
prophecy  had  failed. 

So  that — to  say  the  very  least — had 
men  taken  the  smallest  possible  trouble, 
they  might  have  known  that  our  Lord 
was  no  Galilean  in  such  sense  as  im- 
peached die  fulfilment  of  prophecy; 
but  that,  on  the  contrary,  He  had  all 
that  evidence  on  his  side  which  could 
be  drawn  from  parentage  and  birthplace. 
They  might  have  fixed  on  other  predic- 
tions in  regard  of  the  Messiah,  the  ac- 
complishment of  which  in  the  person  of 
our  Lord  was  not  of  such  clear  and  easy 
demonstration.  But  the  predictions 
which  had  to  do  with  his  nativity,  were 
just  those  on  which  we  should  have 
fastened,    as   intelligible  to  all  in  their 


j  meaning,  and  accessible  to  all  in  their 
fulfilment.  Yet  so  great  was  the  popu- 
lar indifference,  or  so  strong  the  popular 
prejudice,  that  a  statement  seems  to  have 
gone  uncontradicted  through  the  land, 
that  the  pretended  Messiah  was  by  birth 
a  Galilean  :  He  passed  by  the  name  of 
"Jesus  of  Nazareth;"  and  this  went  in 
proof  that  He  was  not  born  in  Bethle- 
hem. Ay,  and  it  may  even  be  gathered 
from  our  text,  that  men  were  so  glad  of 
some  specious  excuse  for  rejecting  our 
Lord,  that,  when  his  works,  or  his  say- 
ings, had  almost  constrained  their  belief 
and  adherence,  they  caught  eagerly  at 
the  shallow  falsehood,  and  made  it,  with- 
out farther  evidence,  a  pretext  for  con- 
tinued opposition.  It  does  not  seem  that 
when  they  who  said,  "  This  is  the  Pro- 
phet," or,  "  This  is  the  Christ,"  found 
themselves  met  by  the  objection,  "  Shall 
Christ  come  out  of  Galilee,"  they  had 
any  reply  to  make  :  the  impression  from 
the  narrative  is — especially  if  you  couple 
it  with  the  known  fact  that  very  few  of 
the  people  joined  themselves  to  our 
Lord — that  they  considered  the  objec- 
tion decisive  ;  that  they  were  ignorant 
of  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  took  no 
pains  to  inform  themselves  better.  In- 
deed, we  know  not  what  fairer  interpre- 
tation to  put  upon  the  circumstance, 
than  that  the  eagerness  to  disprove  the 
pretensions  of  Jesus  made  men  seize, 
without  examination,  on  any  popular 
mistake  which  seemed  to  justify  unbe- 
lief, and  then  avoid  the  finding  out  the 
mistake,  because  they  could  not  spare 
so  convenient  an  argument.  However 
numbers,  such  as  are  described  in  the 
text,  may  have  been  at  times  half  dis- 
posed to  acknowledge  the  Christ,  the 
secret  wish  of  their  hearts,  as  is  clear 
from  the  result,  must  all  along  have  been 
to  the  getting  rid  of  so  strict  and  uncom- 
promising a  teacher  ;  and  all  they  want- 
ed was  something  of  a  specious  pretence 
which  might  reconcile  'to  their  con- 
science what  their  inclinations  prescri- 
bed. And  it  would  be  quite  a  treasure 
to  these  waverers,  to  meet  with  what 
might  pass  for  a  scriptural  objection  ;  it 
was  like  taking  holy  ground :  it  was 
making  rejection  a  positive  duty  :  it  left 
them  at  liberty  to  admit  the  miracles, 
and  admire  the  doctrines,  but,  alas  !  this 
remarkable  Personage  did  hot  answer 
to  certain  tests  laid  down  by  the  Pro- 
phets, and  there  was  no  alternative  to 


176 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


the  refusing  to  receive  Him  as  the  pro- 
mised Redeemer. 

And  when  they  once  had  hold  of  the 
scriptural  objection,  they  would  be  at 
no  pains  to  examine  it  carefully  :  there 
would  be  danger  in  this ;  and,  busied  as 
they  were  with  a  thousand  other  neces- 
sary things,  they  might  well  be  permit- 
ted to  take  for  granted  what  could 
hardly  have  been  alleged,  except  it  had 
been  truth — Jesus  universally  passed 
for  a  Galilean,  and  mistake  was  insup- 
posable  in  regard  of  a  fact  so  easily  as- 
certained. O  the  deceitfulness  of  the 
heart !  what  force  it  will  find  in  an  ar- 
gument which  sides  with  its  wishes, 
what  fallacy  in  another  which  opposes 
them  !  Think  you  that  we  exaggerate 
what  was  done  by  the  Jews  1  Nay,  we 
shall  presently  have  to  show  you  that 
they  are  not  without  their  copyists  even 
amongst  ourselves.  But,  at  present,  put, 
if  you  can,  any  milder  interpretation 
on  the  registered  facts.  God  might  be 
said  to  have  inscribed  the  nativity  of 
our  Lord  on  the  walls  of  Bethlehem,  in 
the  blood  of  its  slaughtered  infants.  The 
nativity,  which  produced  such  a  tragedy, 
could  not  have  been  difficult  to  ascertain, 
could  have  required  no  labored  research 
into  national  archives,  or  family  genealo- 
gies. Any  man  then,  who  knew  that 
prophecy  had  fixed  Bethlehem  as  the 
place  of  Messiah's  birth,  might  equally 
have  known,  had  he  thought  it  worth 
while  to  inquire,  that  there  had  He  been 
born  who  was  called  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
But  men  had  an  interest  in  remaining 
deceived  ;  their  wish  was  not  that  of  as- 
certaining truth,  but  rather  that  of  find- 
ing a  specious  apology  for  adhering  to 
falsehood.  There  is  such  a  thing  as 
shrinking  from  inquiry,  through  a  secret 
dread  of  finding  oneself  in  the  wrong. 
A  man  may  abstain  from  asking  a  ques- 
tion, because  self-conscious  that  the  an- 
swer might  oblige  him  to  change  an 
opinion  which  he  would  rather  not  give 

And  this  is  what,  from  the  evidence 
before  us,  we  charge  upon  the  Jews. 
Oh,  it  looked  very  fine  to  have  Scripture 
on  their  side ;  the  devil  had  used  the 
Bible  in  tempting  our  Lord,  and  they 
could  now  use  it  in  justifying  their  un- 
belief. But  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  " 
like  every  other  sword,  may  be  used  for 
suicide  as  well  as  for  war.  And  if  ever 
so  used,  it  was  in  this  instance.     A  fact 


had  been  predicted,  and  in  characters 
of  blood  had  history  registered  the  pre- 
diction's fulfilment.  Yet  was  the  pre- 
diction, which,  for  the  trouble  of  ask- 
ing, would  have  powerfully  upheld  our 
Lord's  claims,  turned,  on  the  credit  of 
an  idle  report,  into  a  reason  fin-  their 
utter  rejection.  And  men,  who  were 
just  on  the  point  of  yielding  to  our  Lord, 
ovex-come  whether  by  the  majesty  of  his 
miracles,  or  the  sweetness  of  his  dis- 
courses, turned  away  from  Him,  and 
sealed  their  own  destiuction,  because 
they  had  no  answer  at  hand,  or  took  foi 
granted  that  none  could  be  given,  to  an 
objection  which  rested  on  a  falsehood, 
and  the  falsehood  one  which  a  breath 
might  have  scattered,  "  Shall  Christ 
come  out  of  Galilee'?  Hath  not  the 
Scripture  saith  that  Christ  cometh  of 
the  seed  of  David,  and  out  of  the 
town  of  Bethlehem,  where  David  was  1  " 
And  now,  to  recur  to  our  introductory 
remarks,  which  asserted  a  sameness  in 
human  depravity  and  conduct,  think  ye 
that  the  like  to  this  is  not  of  frequent 
occurrence  amongst  ourselves  1  that  the 
Jews  have  no  successors  in  that  readi- 
ness to  disbelieve,  which  will  seize  on 
any  straw  for  an  argument,  and  actually 
be  at  pains  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of 


any  opposite  evide 


Nay,  it  is  done 


every  day  ;  we  need  not  search  far  to 
be  in  possession  of  instances. 

What  is  that  scepticism  which  is  of- 
ten met  with  amongst  the  boastful  and 
young,  that  sickly  infidelity,  which  it 
were  almost  pity  to  attack  with  vehe- 
mence, so  manifestly  unprepared  is  it 
for  vigorous  defence  1  Is  it  the  result 
of  deep  reading,  or  careful  investiga- 
tion 1  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  fashion- 
able young  man,  the  student  at  a  hos- 
pital, the  orator  at  some  juvenile  literary 
club,  gets  hold  of  some  objection  against 
Christianity,  which  has  a  specious  sound, 
and  a  formidable  look — all  the  better,  if 
it  come  out  of  the  Bible  itself,  in  the 
shape  of  an  alleged  contradiction,  or  an 
erroneous  assertion  ;  and  this  is  enough 
for  him  ;  he  has  his  "  Shall  Chrst  come 
out  of  Galilee  'I  "  and  with  one  so  de- 
cisive an  argument,  why  should  he 
trouble  himself  to  search  for  any  more  ! 
Oh,  no — you  are  quite  right ;  one  sound 
argument  is  as  good  as  a  host :  I  did 
not  blame  the  Jews  for  determining  that 
Jesus  could  not  be  the  Christ,  if  He 
had  come  out  of  Galilee  :  no  amount  of 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


177 


evidence  upon  other  points  could  have 
outweighed  this  simple  testimony  against 
Him.  J    ° 

But  the   aspiring  sceptic  will  not  be 
at  the  pains  of  inquiring  into  the  strength 
of  his    objection.       He    will  not    refer 
to  books,  and,  much  less,  to  men  better 
informed  than  himself,  in  order  to  know 
whether  the  objection  have  not  been  at 
least  a  hundred  times  refuted — and  this 
is  our  quarrel  with  him.     He  wishes  to 
continue  deceived  :  it  would  be  very  dis- 
tasteful   to    him  to  find  himself  in  the 
wrong,  and,  therefore,  he  would  rather 
avoid  than  seek  the  means  of  instruction. 
We  are  bold  to  say  of  all  the  popular 
arguments  against  the  Bible,  especially 
of  those  drawn  from  the  Bible  itself,  that 
they  have   been   so  often  refuted,  their 
weakness   and    worthlessness    so    often 
exposed,  that  only  overbearing  effron- 
tery,  or    unpardonable  ignorance,  will 
venture  on  repeating  what  is  so  worn 
out  and  stale.     It  were  really,  if  I  may 
use    the  expression,    almost  a    refresh- 
ment, to  meet  with  something  a  little 
new  in  sceptical  objections.     But  it  is 
the  same  thing  again  and  again — "  Shall 
Christ  come  out   of  Galilee  1  "  and  the 
sceptic,  like  the  Jew,  has  really  only  to 
look  round  him,  to  ask   a  question,  or 
consult  a  book,  and  he  would  find  that 
Jesus  did  not  come  out  of  Galilee,  but 
"  out  of  the  town  of  Bethlehem,  where 
David  was."      God  suffered  infants  to 
be  slain,  that  the  Jewish  unbelief  might 
be  inexcusable  ;   and  He  has  raised  up 
giants   in    his   Church,  whose    writings 
will  ever  be  a  rampart  to  the  Bible,  that 
modem  unbelief  might  be  alike  inexcus- 
able.    As   easily  may   any  one  of  you 
who    has     met    with  an    objection    to 
Christianity  meet  with  its  refutation,  as 
might  the  Jews,  hearing  that  Jesus  was 
1  of  Nazareth,  have  learned  that  He  was 
actually  of  Bethlehem.      But,  alas  !  it 
is  with  the  young  and  conceited,  as  it 
was  with  the  Jews — there  is  a  secret 
wish  to  be  rid  of  Christianity  ;  and  it  is 
safer  not  to  make  too  close  inquiry,  lest 
it  should  only  do  away  with  a  conve- 
nient excuse. 

And  we  do  not  give  this  case  of  the 
youthful  would-be  sceptic,  as  the  solita- 
ry exemplification  of"  Shall  Christ  come 
out  of  Galilee  ?  "  How  fond  are  men 
of  getting  hold  of  some  one  text  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  shielding  themselves  under  it 
from  all  the  rest  of  the  Bible !  Who 
23 


has  not  heard,  "  Be  not  righteous  over- 
much, "  quoted,  as  though  it  excused  a 
man  from  endeavouring  to  be  righteous 
at  all  1  And  "  charity  shall  cover  a  mul 
titude  of  sins,"  is  a  most  convenient  pas 
sage  :  there  is  needed  only  a  little  mis. 
interpretation,  and  a  careful  overlooking 
of  all  other  Scripture,  and  a  man  may 
satisfy  himself,  that,  by  a  little  liberality 
to  the  poor,  he  shall  hide  his  misdoings, 
or  obtain  their  forgiveness.  Every  such 
fastening  on  any  single  text,  without 
taking  pains  to  examine  and  considei 
whether  there  be  not  some  great  and 
fundamental  mistake,  is  but  the  repeti- 
tion of  what  was  done  by  the  Jews  ; 
the  Bible  has  said  that  Christ  must  come 
out  of  Bethlehem ;  and  men  are  glad 
enough,  without  any  inquiry,  to  reject  a 
Gospel  whose  Author  is  reputed  to  have 
come  out  of  Nazareth. 

Shall  we  give  you  other  instances  ? 
If  a  man  wish  to  depreciate  baptism,  or 
the  fitness  that  He  who  administers  so 
holy  an  ordinance  should  have  a  com- 
mission from  God,  he  has  his  text,  his 
"Shall  Christ  come    out  of  Galilee?" 
St.   Paul   said   to   the    Corinthians  "I 
thank  God  that  I  baptized  none  of  you 
save  Crispus  and  Gaius.      For  Christ 
sent  me  not  to  baptize,  but  to  preach 
the  Gospel."     Then  St.  Paul  made  but 
little  of  baptism,  and  thought  that  the 
administering  it  fell  beneath  his    high 
office  !     Did  he  indeed  ]    why,  this  °is 
worse  than  the  Jews ;  they  had  to  trav- 
el perhaps   as  far  as  to  Bethlehem,  to 
ascertain   their  mistake,  but  you  need 
not  go  beyond  the'  next  verse  to  that 
which  you  quote,  "  Lest  any  should  say 
that  I  had  baptized  in  mine  own  name. " 
Paul  was  thankful  that  he  had  baptized 
but  few;  for  he  judged,  from  the  temper 
of  the  Corinthian  Church,  that,  had  he 
baptized  many,  it  would  only  have  en- 
couraged that  party-spirit  which  was  so 
utterly  at  variance  with  vital  Christiani- 
ty.    And  this   is   making  light  of  Bap- 
tism, or  entitling  any  one  to  administer 
it !     Alas,  it  seems  of  very  little  worth 
that  Jesus  was  actually  born  at  Bethle- 
hem, since  his  ordinary  name  is  "  Jesus 
of  Nazareth." 

To  take  but  one  instance  more.  What 
numbers  declaim  agamst  an  Established 
Church  !  how  persuaded  are  they  that 
it  is  utterly  unlawful  for  the  civil  power 
to  meddle  with  religion,  to  take  direct 
measures  for  the  upholding  Christianity, 


173 


VARIOUS  oriNioxs. 


in  place  of  leaving-  it  to  that  purest  and 
most  active  instrumentality,  "  the  volun- 
tary principle."  You  may  be  sure  that 
these  declaimers  have  their  text  :  they 
have  their  question,  "Shall  Christ  come 
out  of  Galilee,"  out  of  acts  of  parlia- 
ment, and  compulsory  payments  ]  Hath 
He  not  said,  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of 
this  world  1  "  O  the  triumphant  tone 
with  which  these  words  are  uttered,  the 
complacency  with  which  they  are  con- 
sidered as  settling  the  controversy,  and 
disgracing  endowments  !  But  have  the 
words  any  thing  to  do  with  the  matter  1 
in  what  sense  did  Christ  mean  that  his 
kingdom  was  not  of  this  world  1  Nay, 
Bethlehem  is  not  farther,  in  this  case, 
from  Galilee,  than  in  that  last  adduced. 
They  are  both  in  one  verse.  "  My 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world  ;  if  my 
kingdom  were  of  this  world,  then  would 
my  servants  fight  that  I  should  not  be 
delivered  to  the  Jews."  So  then,  the 
sense,  as  here  defined,  in  which  Christ's 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  is  simply 
that  the  sword  is  not  to  be  used  in  its 
defence.  "  If  my  kingdom  were  of  this 
world,"  my  servants  would  fight  like 
other  soldiers  ;  but  it  forbids  persecution 
and  war ;  so  that  it  is  "  not  of  this 
world,"  in  the  sense  of  allowing,  or  de- 
pending on  martial  force  or  resistance. 
What  has  this  to  do  with  Church  Es- 
tablishments 1  Alas !  this  text,  which 
is  noised  from  one  end  of  the  land  to 
the  other,  is,  for  all  the  world,  the  same 
in  the  hands  of  its  perverters,  as  "  Hath 
not  the  Scripture  said  that  Christ  cometh 
out  of  Bethlehem]  "  in  the  hands  of  the 
Jews.  Because  Christ  was  of  Naza- 
reth, as  having  lived  there  much,  He 
could  not  have  been  born  in  Bethlehem  : 


because  his  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world, 
as  not  permitting  the  slaughter  of  its 
enemies,  it  cannot  lawfully  be  fostered 
by  states  which  are  its  friends. 

But  we  have  no  further  space  for  mul- 
tiplying instances.  We  have  thrown 
out  a  subject  for  thought ;  and  if  you  wiD 
consider  for  yourselves,  you  will  easily 
find  additional  illustrations.  It  is  no  un- 
common thing — this  is  our  position — for 
men  to  seize  on  some  one  verse  or  de- 
claration of  the  Bible,  and  to  make  it 
their  excuse  for  clinging  to  a  false  theo- 
ry, or  neglecting  a  plain  duty.  Not  that 
in  any  case  the  verse,  justly  interpreted 
and  applied,  will  bear  them  out — no 
more  than  the  prophecy  as  to  Bethle- 
hem warranted  the  Jews  in  rejecting 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  But  there  may  be 
an  appearance  of  reason,  something 
plausible  and  specious  ;  and  error  can 
never  be  more  dangerous  than  when  it 
seems  to  have  Scripture  on  its  side. 
The  grand  point  then  is,  that  you  be  on 
your  guard  against  arguing  from  bits  of 
the  Bible,  in  place  of  studying  the  whole, 
and  comparing  its  several  parts.  "  No 
prophecy  of  the  Scripture,"  and,  in  like 
manner,  no  portion  of  the  Scripture,  "  is 
of  any  private  interpretation."  Settle  the 
meaning  fairly,  by  searching,  with  pray- 
er for  God's  Spirit,  into  the  relation 
which  each  statement  bears  to  others, 
and  by  examining  the  light  which  it  de- 
rives from  them.  The  meaning,  thu? 
ascertained,  shall  never,  no,  never  be 
contradicted  by  facts ;  if  it  he  clear  from 
the  Bible  that  the  Christ  must  be  bom  in 
Bethlehem,  it  shall  be  always  be  found, 
on  examining,  that  our  Lord  was  not 
born  in  Nazareth. 


THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


179 


SERMON    VI 


THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


And  the  woman  said  unto  the  serpent,  We  may  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees  of  the  garden  :  but  of  the  fruit  of  the 
tree  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  garden,  God  hath  said,  Ye  shall  not  eat  of  it,  neither  shall  ye  touch  it  lest  ye 
die.'- — Genesis  iii.  2,  3. 


Whatever  may  have  been  the  change 
which  passed  over  man  in  consequence 
of  sin,  we  are  not  to  doubt  that  we  re- 
tain, in  great  measure,  rhe  same  consti- 
tution, weakened  indeed  and  deranged, 
but  compounded  of  the  same  elements, 
and  possessing  similar  powers  and  ten- 
dencies. There  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  any  essential  difference  between  the 
mode  in  which  Satan  tempted  Eve,  and 
that  wherein  he  would  assault  any  one  of 
ourselves  under  similar  circumstances. 
Neither,  so  far  as  Eve  allowed  the 
bodily  senses  to  serve  as  instruments  of 
temptation,  have  we  reason  to  think  that 
the  trial  at  all  differed  from  that  to 
which  the  like  inlets  subject  ourselves. 
The  devil  threw  in  a  suspicion  as  to 
the  goodness  of  God,  suggesting  that 
the  restriction  as  to  the  not  eating  of  a 
particular  fruit  was  harsh  and  uncalled 
for,  and  insinuating,  moreover,  that  the 
results  of  disobedience  would  be  just 
the  reverse  of  what  had  been  threaten- 
ed. And,  certainly,  this  is  much  the 
way  in  which  Satan  still  proceeds  : 
whatever  the  commandment,  our  obedi- 
ence to  which  is  being  put  to  the  proof, 
he  tries  to  make  us  feel  that  the  com- 
mandment is  unnecessarily  severe,  and 
that,  in  all  probability,  the  infringing  it 
will  not  be  visited  with  such  vengeance 
as  has  been  denounced. 

Thus  also  with  regard  to  the  bodily 
senses.  Eve  was  tempted  through  the 
eye,  for  she  saw  that  the  tree  was  plea- 
sant to  the  sight ;  she  was  tempted  also 
through  the  appetite,  for  she  saw  that  the 
tree  was  good  for  food.  And  this  was 
precisely  as  the  senses  are  now  instru- 
mental to  the  service  of  sin  :  no  doubt 


now  that  our  nature  has  become  depra- 
ved, these  senses  are  readier  avenues 
than  before  for  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  heart  :  but,  nevertheless,  the  eye  and 
the  taste,  in  the  instance  of  Eve  before 
she  transgressed,  acted  a  part  of  the  very 
same  kind  as  they  peform  now  in  cases 
of  every  day  experience. 

Indeed  it  ought  to  be  observed  that, 
according  to  St.  John,  all  the  sin  that 
tempts  mankind  may  be  comprised  in 
these  three  terms,  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh, 
the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life." 
To  these  three  may  evidently  be  reduced 
the  temptation  of  our  first  parents  :  there 
was  "the  lust  of  the  flesh,"  in  that  the 
fruit  was  desired  as  good  for  food ;  "  the 
lust  of  the  eye,"  in  that  the  fruit  was 
pleasant  to  the  sight ;  and  "  the  pride  of 
life,"  in  that  it  was  "  to  be  desired  to 
make  one  wise."  To  the  same  three 
may  as  evidently  be  ^educed  the  tempta- 
tion of  the  second  Adam,  the  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ,  who,  on  this  very  account, 
may  be  declared  to  have  been  "  tempted 
in  all  points  like  as  we  are."  Our 
blessed  Savior  was  assailed  through 
"  the  lust  of  the  flesh,"  when  tempted 
to  satisfy  his  hunger  by  turning  stones 
into  bread.  "  The  lust  of  the  eye  "  was 
employed,  when  the  devil  would  have 
had  Him  cast  Himself  from  a  pinnacle 
of  the  Temple,  and  thus  obtain,  by  an 
useless  and  ostentatious  miracle,  the  ap- 
plauses of  the  crowd  assembled  there 
for  worship.  And  "  the  pride  of  life  " 
was  appealed  to,  when  Satan  proffered 
our  Lord  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world 
and  their  glory."  on  condition  of  his 
falling  down  and  worshipping  him. 

These   three   departments    are    still 


ISO 


THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


those  under  which  all  sin  may  he  i  anged. 
If  you  take  any  particular  temptation, 
you  may  always  make  it  answer  to  one 
of  the  terms,  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the 
lust  of  the  eye,  and  the   pride  of  life." 
So  that — to  recur  to   our  introductory 
remark — there  passed   no  such  change 
on    human    nature    in    consequence    of| 
apostasy,    as  that  the  elements   of  our 
constitution  became  different  from  what 
they  were.     If  our  first  parents,  whilst 
yet  unfallen,  were  assailed  in  the  same 
way,  and  through  the  same  channels,  as 
ourselves  on  whom  they  fastened  cor- 
ruption ;  if  our  blessed  Redeemer,  who 
took  our  nature  without  taint  of  origi- 
nal sin,  was  tempted  in  the  modes  in 
which    temptation    still    makes    its  ap- 
proaches ;  we  may  most  justly  conclude 
that    our    constitution   remains  what  it 
was,    except,    indeed,    that    our    moral 
powers  have  been  grievously  weakened, 
and  that  a  bias   towards   evil  has  been 
laid  on  our  affections,  which  places  us 
at  a  real  disadvantage,  whensoever  as- 
sailed by  the  world,  the  flesh,  or  the  devil. 
But  when  we  have  thus  in  a  measure 
identified  our  constitution   with  that  of 
our  first  parents  before  they  transgress- 
ed, it  is  highly  interesting  and  instruct- 
ive to  study  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
original  temptation,  and  to  see  whether 
they  may  not  still  be  often,  and  accu- 
rately paralleled.     So  long  as  we  sepa- 
rate, or  so  distinguish,   ourselves  from 
our  first  parents  in  their  unfallen  state, 
as  though  there  had  been  an  actual  dif- 
ference  in  nature,  the   account   of  the 
original  transgression  is  little  more  to 
us  than  a  curious  record,  from  which  we 
can  hardly  think  to  derive  many  person- 
al lessons.   But  when  we  have  ascertain- 
ed that  our  first  parents  were  ourselves, 
only   with  moral  powers  in  unbroken 
vigor,  and  with  senses  not  yet  degraded 
to   the    service  of  evil,  the  history   of 
their  fall  assumes  all  the  interest  which 
belongs  to  the  narrative  of  events,  which 
not  merely  involve  us  in  their  conse- 
quences, but  the  repetition  of  which  is 
likely  to  occur,  and  should  be  earnestly 
guarded  against. 

We  wish,  therefore,  on  the  present 
occasion,  to  examine  with  all  careful- 
ness the  workings  of  Eve's  mind  at 
that  critical  moment  when  the  devil, 
under  the  form  of  a  serpent,  sought  to 
turn  her  away  from  her  allegiance  to 
God.     This  is  no  mere  curious  exami- 


nation, as  it  might  indeed  be,  had  Eve, 
before  she  yielded  to  temptation,  been 
differently  constituted  from  one  of  our- 
selves. But  k  has  been  the  object  of 
our  foregoing  remarks,  to  show  you  that 
there  was  not  this  difference  in  consti- 
tution :  a  piece  of  mechanism  may  have 
its  springs  disordered  and  its  workings 
deranged  ;  but  it  is  nor  a  different  piece 
of  mechanism  from  what  it  was  when 
every  part  was  in  perfect  operation ; 
and  we  may  find,  as  we  go  on,  that  the 
workings  of  Eve's  mind  were  wonder- 
fully similar  to  those  of  our  own,  so  that 
we  shall  not  only  sustain  all  our  forego- 
ing argument,  but  be  able  to  present  our 
common  mother  as  a  warning,  and  to 
derive  from  her  fall  instruction  of  the 
mi ist  practical  and  personal  kind.  With- 
out then  further  preface — though  you 
must  bear  in  mind  what  we  have  ad- 
vanced, that  you  may  not  think  to  evade 
the  application  of  the  subject,  by  ima- 
gining differences  between  Eve  and 
yourselves — let  us  go  to  the  patient  con- 
sideration of  the  several  statements  of 
our  text;  let  us  examine  what  may  be 
gathered  in  regard  of  the  exact  state  of 
Eve's  mind,  from  her  mode  of  putting, 
first,  the  permission  of  God,  "  We  may 
eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees  of  the  gai 
den,"  and  secondly,  his  prohibition, 
"  The  fruit  of  the  tree  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden,  ye  shall  not  eat  of 
it,  neither  shall  ye  touch  it,  lest  ye  die." 
Now  the  point  of  time  at  which  we 
have  to  take  Eve  is  one  at  which  she  is 
evidently  beginning  to  waver  :  she  has 
allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  into  con- 
versation with  the  serpent,  which  it 
would  have  been  wise  in  her,  especially 
as  her  husband  was  not  by,  to  have  de- 
clined ;  and  there  is  a  sort  of  unacknow- 
ledged restlessness,  an  uneasiness  of 
feeling,  as  though  God  might  not  be 
that  all-wise  and  all-gracious  Being 
which  she  had  hitherto  supposed.  She 
has  not  yet,  indeed,  proceeded  to  actual 
disobedience  :  but  she  is  clearly  giving 
some  entertainment  to  doubts  and  sus- 
picions :  she  has  not  yet  broken  God's 
commandment ;  but  she  is  looking  at  it 
with  a  disposition  to  question  its  good- 
ness, and  depreciate  the  risk  of  setting 
it  at  nought.  There  are  certain  preludes, 
or  approaches,  towards  sin,  which,  even 
in  ourselves,  are  scarcely  to  be  designa- 
ted sin,  and  which  must  have  been  still 
farther  removed  from  it  in  the  unfallen 


THE  SIISREPRESEXTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


1S1 


Eve.  You  remember  how  St.  James 
speaks,  "Every  man  is  tempted,  when 
he  is-  drawn  away  of  his  own  lust,  and 
enticed.  Then  when  lust  hath  conceiv- 
ed, it  bringeth  forth  sin."  The  Apostle, 
you  observe,  does  not  give  the  name  of 
sin  to  the  first  motions  :  if  these  motions 
were  duly  resisted,  as  they  might  be, 
the  man  would  have  been  tempted,  but 
not  have  actually  sinned. 

And  if  so  much  may  be  allowed  of 
ourselves,  in  whom  inclinations  and  pro- 
pensities are  corrupted  and  depraved 
through  original  sin,  much  more  must 
it  have  been  true  of  Eve,  when,  if  tot- 
tering, she  had  not  yet  fallen  from  her 
first  estate.  She  was  then  still  innocent : 
but  there  were  feelings  at  work  which 
were  fast  bringing  her  to  the  edge  of 
the  precipice ;  and  it  is  on  the  indica- 
tion of  these  feelings  that,  for  the  sake 
of  warning  and  example,  we  wish  espe- 
cially to  fix  your  attention. 

It  was  a  large  and  liberal  grant  which 
God  had  made  to  man  of  the  trees  of 
the  garden.  "  Of  every  tree  of  the  gar- 
den thou  mayest  freely  eat."  It  is  true, 
indeed,  there  was  one  exception  to  this 
permission  :  man  was  not  to  eat  of  "  the 
tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil;  " 
but  of  every  other  tree  he  might  not 
only  eat,  he  was  told  to  "  eat  freely," 
as  though  God  would  assure  him  of  their 
being  all  unreservedly  at  his  disposal. 
But  now,  observe,  that,  when  Eve  comes 
to  recount  this  generous  grant,  she 
leaves  out  the  word  "  freely,"  and  thus 
may  be  said  to  depreciate  its  liberality. 
"  We  may  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees 
of  the  garden."  This  is  but  a  cold  ver- 
sion of  the  large-hearted  words,  "  Of 
every  tree  of  the  garden  thou  mayest 
freely  eat."  She  is  evidently  more  dis- 
posed to  dwell  on  the  solitary  restriction 
than  on  the  generous  permission  :  she 
is  thinking  more  of  the  hardship  from 
the  one  than  of  the  privilege  from  the 
other.  It  was  a  bad,  a  dangerous  symp- 
tom, that  Eve  suffered  herself  to  look 
slightingly  on  the  rich  mercies  with 
which  she  was  blessed,  and  that  she 
could  speak  of  those  mercies,  if  not  in 
a  disparaging  tone,  at  least  without  that 
grateful  acknowledgement  which  their 
abundance  demanded.  It  laid  her  pe- 
rilously open  to  the  insinuations  of  Sa- 
tan, that  she  was  contrasting  what  she 
had  not,  magnifying  the  latter,  and  de- 
preciating the  former. 


But  is  not  the  symptom  one  which 
may  be  frequently  found  amongst  our- 
selves i  Indeed  it  is  ;  and  we  point  it 
out  in  the  instance  of  Eve,  that  each  one 
of  you  may  learn  to  watch  it  in  himself. 
There  is  in  all  of  us  a  disposition  to  think 
little  of  what  God  gives  us  to  enjoy,  and 
much  of  what  He  gives  us  to  suffer.  It 
may  be  but  one  tree  which  He  with- 
holds, and  there  may  be  a  hundred 
which  He  grants  :  but,  alas  !  the  one, 
because  withheld,  will  seem  to  multiply 
into  the  hundred,  the  hundred,  because 
granted,  to  shrink  into  the  one.  If  He 
take  from  us  a  single  blessing,  how  much 
more  ready  are  we  to  complain  as  though 
we  had  lost  all,  than  to  count  up  what 
remain,  and  give  Him  thanks  for  the 
multitude.  He  has  but  to  forbid  us  a 
single  gratification,  and,  presently,  we 
speak  as  though  He  had  dealt  with  us 
with  a  churlish  and  niggardly  hand, 
though,  were  we  to  attempt  to  reckon 
the  evidences  of  his  loving-kindness, 
they  are  more  in  number  than  the  hairs 
of  our  head.  And  when  we  suffer  our- 
selves in  any  measure  to  speak,  or  think, 
disparagingly  of  the  mercies  of  God,  it 
is  very  evident  that  we  are  making  way 
for,  if  not  actually  indulging,  suspicions 
as  to  the  goodness  of  God  ;  and  it  can- 
not be  necessary  to  prove  that  he,  who 
allows  himself  to  doubt  the  Divine  good- 
ness, is  preparing  himself  for  the  breach 
of  any  and  every  commandment. 

Learn  then  to  be  very  watchful  over 
this  moral  symptom.  Be  very  fearful 
of  depreciating  your  mercies.  It  shew- 
ed an  intenseness  of  danger  in  the  in- 
stance of  Eve,  that,  when  God  had  given 
her  permission  to  "  eat  freely,"  she  could 
speak  of  herself  as  permitted  only  to 
"  eat."  There  was  no  falsehood  in  her  ac- 
count of  the  permission  :  she  does  not 
deny  that  she  was  allowed  to  eat  of  the 
trees  of  the  garden ;  but  there  was  a  dis- 
satisfied and  querulous  way  of  putting  the 
permission,  as  though  she  avoided  the 
word  "  freely,"  that  she  might  not  mag- 
nify the  riches  of  the  Divine  liberality. 
And  we  warn  you,  by  the  fall  of  Eve, 
against  the  allowing  yourselves  to  think 
slightingly  of  your  mercies.  It  matters 
not  what  may  be  your  trials,  what  your 
afflictions  : — none  of  you  can  be  so  strip- 
ped but  what,  if  he  will  think  over  the 
good  which  God  has  left  in  his  posses- 
sion, he  will  find  cause  for  acknowledg- 
ing in   God  a  gracious   and  a  generous 


182 


THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


benefactor.     Hut  if,  because  you  are  de-  j 
barred  from  this  or  that  enjoyment,  or  i 
because  this  or   that  blessing  is  placed  j 
out  of  reach,  you  make  little  of,  or  com- 
paratively forget,  the  rich  gifts  of  God; 
ah  !   then  indeed  there  is  a  fearful   pro- 
bability of  your  being  left  to  harden  into 
the   unthankful  and  unbelieving :   with 
Eve,  you   may   seem  only  to  leave  out 
the   word  "  freely  ;  "  but   God,   who  is 
jealous  as  well  as  generous,  may  punish 
the  omission  by  such  withdrawment  of 
his  grace  as  shall  be  followed  by  open 
violation  of  his  law. 

O  for  hearts  to  magnify  the  Lord's 
mercies,  and  count  up  his  loving-kind- 
nesses !  It  is  "  freely "  that  He  has 
permitted  us  to  eat  of  the  trees  of  the 
garden.  He  has  imposed  no  harsh  re- 
strictions, none  but  what,  shortsighted 
though  we  are,  we  may  already  perceive 
designed  for  our  good.  Placed  as  we 
are  amid  a  throng  of  mercies,  rich  fruits 
already  ripened  for  our  use,  and  richer 
maturing  as  our  portion  for  eternity, 
shall  we  speak  of  Him  as  though  He 
had  dealt  out  sparingly  the  elements  of 
happiness]  .Shall  we — just  because 
there  is  forbidden  fruit,  of  which  we  are 
assured  that  to  eat  it  is  to  die ;  or  with- 
ered fruit,  of  which  we  should  believe 
that  it  would  not  have  been  blighted  un- 
less to  make  us  seek  better — shall  we 
deny  the  exuberant  provision  which  God 
hath  made  for  us  as  intelligent,  account- 
able creatures  1  Shall  we  forget  the 
abundance  with  which  He  has  mantled 
the  earth,  the  gorgeous  clusters  with 
which  He  has  hung  the  firmament,  the 
blessings  of  the  present  life,  the  promi- 
ses of  a  future,  and  the  munificent  grant 
with  which  He  has  installed  us  as  Chris- 
tians into  a  soi-t  of  universal  possession, 
"All  things  are  yours;  ye  are  Christ's, 
and  Christ  is  God's  ]  " 

Nay,  we  again  say,  take  ye  good  heed 
of  misrepresenting  God,  of  depreciating 
your  mercies,  of  exaggerating  your 
losses.  There  cannot  be  a  worse  sign, 
a  sign  of  greater  moral  peril,  than  when 
a  man  repines  at  what  is  lost,  as  though 
there  were  not  much  more  left,  and 
dwells  more  on  God  as  withholding  cer- 
tain things,  than  as  bestowing  a  thou- 
sand times  as  many.  And  that  you  may 
be  aware  of  the  dangerousness  of  the 
symptom,  and  thereby  led  to  cultivate  a 
thankful  spirit,  a  spirit  disposed  to  com- 
pare what  God  gives  with  what,  He  de- 


nies ; — a  comparison  which  will  always 
make  the  latter  seem  little,  because  im- 
measurably exceeded  by  the  fornfler — 
study  with  all  care  the  instance  of  Eve, 
and  observe  that  her  first  indication  of 
tottering  towards  her  fatal  apostasy  lay  in 
this,  that,  when  God  had  issued  the  large 
and  generous  charter,  "  Of  every  tree 
of  the  garden  thou  may  est  freely  eat," 
she  could  reduce  it  into  the  cold  and 
measured  allowance,  "  We  may  eat  of 
the  fruit  of  the  trees  of  the  garden." 

But  we  may  go  farther  in  tracing  in 
Eve  the  workings  of  a  dissatisfied  mind, 
of  a  disposition  to  suspect  God  of  harsh- 
ness, notwithstanding  the  multiplied 
evidences  of  his  goodness.  You  are 
next  to  observe  how  she  speaks  of  the 
prohibition  in  regard  of  "  the  tree  of 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil."  She  left 
out  a  most  important  and  significant 
word  in  stating  God's  permission  as  to 
the  trees  of  the  garden,  and  thus  did 
much  to  divest  that  permission  of  its 
generous  character.  But  she  inserted 
words  when  she  came  to  mention  the 
prohibition,  and  by  that  means  invested 
it  with  more  of  strictness  and  severity 
than  God  seems  to  have  designed.  The 
prohibition  as  it  issued  from  God  was, 
"  Of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil,  thou  shalt  not  eat  of  it."  But 
the  prohibition  as  repeated  by  Eve  was, 
"Of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden,  God  hath  said,  Ye 
shall  not  eat  of  it,  neither  shall  ye  touch 
it."  She  affirmed,  you  observe,  that 
God  had  forbidden  the  touching  the  fruit 
as  well  as  the  eating  of  it ;  whereas  it 
does  not  appear  that  God  had  said  any- 
thing as  to  the  touching.  There  might 
indeed  have  been  prudence  in  not  touch- 
ing what  might  not  be  eaten ;  for  he  who 
allowed  himself  to  handle  would  be  very 
likely  to  allow  himself  to  taste.  Still, 
the  touching  the  fruit  was  not.  as  far  as 
we  know,  actually  forbidden  oy  Gcd  ; 
and  we  may  therefore  say  of  Eve,  that 
she  exaggerated  the  prohibition,  even  as 
she  had  before  disparaged  the  permis- 
sion. 

And  you  will  readily  perceive  that 
pi'ecisely  the  same  temper  or  feeling 
was  at  work  when  Eve  exaggerated  the 
prohibition,  and  when  she  disparaged 
the  permission.  There  was  in  both  cases 
the  same  inclination  to  misrepresent  God, 
as  though  He  dealt  harshly  with  his 
creatures  :  to  leave  out  the  word  "  free- 


THE   MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


183 


;v "  was  to  make  his  grant  look  less 
liberal ;  to  put  in  the  words,  "  neither 
shall  ye  touch  it,"  was  to  make  his  law 
look  more  rigid  ;  and  it  was  evidently 
tbe  dictate  of  the  same  rising  suspicion, 
•>r  a  part  of  the  same  tacit  accusation, 
when  God's  gifts  were  depreciated,  and 
when  his  restrictions  were  magnified. 

Alas  for  Eve,  that  she  could  thus  as- 
cribe harshness  to  God,  and  speak  as 
though  He  denied  his  creatures  any  ap- 
proach towards  knowledge.  She  might 
\s  well  have  said  that  God  had  forbid- 
den them  to  look  upon  the  tree  ;  where- 
as it  is  clear  that  not  only  might  they 
look  at  the  fruit,  but  that  the  eye  was 
able  to  detect  certain  properties  of  the 
fruit ;  for  you  read  that  "  the  woman 
saw  that  the  tree  was  good  for  food," 
the  color  probably  informing  her  some- 
thing of  its  nature.  And  we  cannot  tell 
what  additional  information  might  have 
been  obtained  through  touching  the  fruit. 
But  if  the  eye  could  detect  certain  pro- 
perties, the  touch,  in  all  probability,  de- 
tected more.  Even  in  the  darkness  and 
feebleness  into  which  we  have  fallen, 
each  sense  is  instrumental  to  the  ascer- 
taining the  qualities  of  substances;  and 
this  power  of  the  senses  must  have  been 
vastly  greater  in  our  first  parents ;  Adam 
gave  names  to  every  living  creature,  the 
names  undoubtedly  being  expressive  of 
the  natures,  and  thus  showed  that  he 
co ;  ild  ascertain  at  once,  without  any  in- 
formant but  himself,  their  several  cha- 
racteristics. 

We  may,  therefore,  reasonably  infer 
that,  whilst  eating  of  the  tree  of  know- 
ledge was  distinctly  forbidden,  and  thus 
our  first  parents  were  debarred  from 
such  discoveries  as  the  sense  of  taste 
might  have  imparted,  they  were  able  to 
determine  a  great  deal  in  regard  of  the 
fruit,  through  their  other  senses,  of 
which  they  were  allowed  the  unrestrict- 
ed use.  But  Eve,  you  see,  was  disposed 
to  make  out  that  God  had  extended  his 
prohibition  to  other  senses  besides  that 
of  taste,  and  thus  had  prevented  them 
from  making  any  advance  towards  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  of  evil.  You 
would  have  argued,  from  her  version  of 
the  prohibition,  that  God  had  altogether 
enclosed,  or  shut  up  the  tree,  guarding 
it  with  the  most  extreme  jealousy  and 
.igor,  so  that  there  was  no  possibility  of 
detecting  any  of  its  properties.  Where- 
as the  restriction  was    only  on  the  ex- 


amining the  fruit,  in  and  through  that 
sense  which  would  make  it  bring  death  ; 
and  there  was  the  warrant  of  the  Divine 
word,  that  to  taste  would  be  to  die.  All 
that  could  be  learnt — and  it  was  proba- 
bly very  considerable — from  sight,  and 
touch,  and  scent,  Adam  and  Eve  were 
at  liberty  to  learn  ;  whilst  what  the  taste 
could  have  taught  was  distinctly  reveal- 
ed ;  and  thus  the  single  prohibition  did 
not  so  much  withhold  them  from  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge,  as  from  the  ex- 
perience of  disaster. 

But  now,  was  Eve  singular  in  the 
misrepresenting  the  prohibition  of  God  ] 
was  she  not  rather  doing  what  has  been 
done  ever  since,  what  is  done  everyday 
by  those  who  would  excuse  themselves 
from  the  duties  and  obligations  of  reli- 


gion 


1     To  hear  men  of  the  world  talk 


about  religion,  you  might  imagine  that 
God's  law  forbade  all  enjoyment  what- 
soever of  the  pleasures  and  satisfactions 
of  life,  that  it  prescribed  nothing  but 
gloom  and  austerity,  and  required  from 
those  who  would  save  the  soul,  that  they 
should  forego  every  gratification  which 
their  nature  solicits.  They  will  talk  to 
you  of  piety,  as  if  it  were  necessarily  of 
a  most  morose  and  melancholy  tenor,  as 
if  it  debarred  men  from  all  participation 
in  visible  good,  requiring  them  to  move 
amid  what  is  bright,  and  beautiful,  and 
attractive  in  creation,  but  only  that  they 
might  mortify  the  propensities  which 
find  therein  their  counterpart  objects. 
Because  God  has  distinctly  forbidden  our 
finding  our  chief  good  in  earthly  things, 
because  He  has  limited  us  to  a  moderate 
or  tempei-ate  use  of  these  things,  there- 
fore will  men  perversely  misrepresent 
his  enactments,  and  pretend  that  He 
would  shut  them  up  in  the  most  dismal 
seclusion,  as  though  He  had  given  them 
appetites  which  were  not  to  be  gratified, 
desires  which  were  only  to  be  resisted, 
and  yet,  all  the  while,  had  surrounded 
them  with  what  those  appetites  crave, 
and  those  desires  solicit.  Whereas, 
there  is  nothing  prohibited  by  the  Di- 
vine law  but  just  that  indulgence  of  our 
appetites  and  desires,  which,  because 
excessive  and  irregular,  would,  from  our 
very  constitution,  be  visited  with  pre- 
sent disappointment  and  remorse,  and, 
from  the  necessary  character  of  a  retri- 
butive government,  with  future  ven- 
geance and  death. 

We   suppose  it   capable  of   a  most 


1S4 


THE  MiSLiKl'KI'.SENTATIONS   OF  EVE. 


thorough  demonstration,  that  the  man 
>f  religion,  the  man  who  allows  himself 
in  no  indulgence  which  religion  forbids, 
whose  appetites  are  never  his  masters, 
but  who  is  "  temperate  in  all  things," 
has  more  actual  enjoyment,  even  of  what 
earth  can  afford,  than  the  reckless  slave 
of  sense,  who,  in  the  expressive  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  would  "  work  all 
uncleanness  with  greediness. "  And 
there  never,  we  believe,  was  a  falser 
charge  than  that  which  would  fasten 
upon  religion  such  a  severe  code  of 
precepts,  and  such  a  stern  series  of 
sacrifices,  as  must  make  its  disciples  do 
perpetual  violence  to  their  feelings,  and 
live  within  reach  of  pleasures  in  which 
they  must  deny  themselves  all  share  : 
whilst  they  who  renounce  religion  are  di- 
viding amongst  themselves  whatever 
good  the  present  life  can  give.  Religion 
forbids  all  that  is  irregular  or  excessive  in 
the  use  of  earthly  things  ;  but  it  forbids 
nothing  more  ;  and  whilst  we  are  con- 
stituted as  we  are,  whilst  there  is  no 
slavery  so  oppressive  as  the  being  slaves 
to  our  own  lusts,  whilst  there  are  the  ir- 
repressible workings  within  us  of  a 
great  moral  principle,  causing  uneasi- 
ness, and  even  anguish,  to  follow  on 
criminal  indulgence — nay,  it  is  no  boast  of 
idle  declamation,  it  is  the  statement  of 
a  simple  and  sober  calculation,  that  the 
religious  man,  partaking  only  so  far  as 
religion  permits,  enjoys,  in  a  much  high- 
er degree  than  the  thorough-paced  world 
ling,  the  very  objects  for  which  that 
worldling  throws  away  his  soul. 

Thus  God  is  just  doing  with  us  as  He 
did  with  our  first  parents  in  regard  of 
the  tree  of  knowledge.  He  did  not  al- 
together debar  them  from  that  tree  ;  He 
only  debarred  them  from  eating  of  that 
tree  ;  knowing  that  they  had  but  to  eat 
of  it,  and  they  would  find  it  to  be  death. 
And  He  does  not  debar  us  from  the  en- 
joyment of  earthly  things  :  He  debars 
us  only  from  that  unbridled  and  unlaw- 
ful indulgence  which  tends  directly  to 
the  destruction  of  both  body  and  soul. 

But  it  is  with  us  as  it  was  with  Eve. 
As  a  sort  of  excuse  for  breaking  God's 
commandments,  we  represent  those 
commandments  as  forbidding  the  touch- 
ing, when  they  forbid  only  the  tasting. 
We  try  to  make  out  religion  as  all  gloom 
and  austerity  ;  and  ask,  whether  it  be 
not  something  too  much  to  expect,  that, 
with  such  a  nature  as  God  has  given  us, 


I  and  placed  in  such  a  world  as  that  as- 
signed for  our  dwelling,  the  nature  soli- 
citing the  very  objects  which  are  pre- 
sented by  the  world,  we  should  hold 
ourselves  altogether  aloof  from  present 
gratifications,  and  live  as  though  we  had 
no  senses,  no  appetites,  no  desires.  Ah, 
my  brethren,  the  younger  more  espe- 
cially, and  such  as  arev  yet  looking  up- 
on religion  with  distaste  and  dislike,  be 
candid,  and  tell  us  whether  it  be  not  the 
apprehension  of  having  to  give  up  all 
that  is  pleasant  and  agreeable,  and  to 
settle  into  a  life  of  moroseness  and  me- 
lancholy, which  makes  you  turn  with 
aversion  from  the  proffers  and  promises 
of  the  Gospel  ] 

But  is  it  in  pure  ignorance  that  you 
thus  misrepresent  religion?  is  it  through 
an  actual  misunderstanding  as  to  what 
God  permits,  and  what  He  prohibits  1 
Nay,  not  exactly  so  ;  we  must  probe 
you  a  little  deeper.  Ye  are  thoroughly 
aware,  even  though  you  may  strive  to 
hide  the  knowledge  from  yourselves  as 
well  as  from  others,  that  God  hath  said, 
"  Of  every  tree  of  the  garden  ye  may 
freely  eat.  "  He  hath  not,  ay,  and  ye 
know  that  He  hath  not,  filled  his  crea- 
tion with  attractions  on  purpose  to  keep 
his  rational  creatures  at  perpetual  strife 
with  themselves,  merely  to  exercise 
them  in  self-denial,  and  give  them  occa- 
sion of  doing  violence  to  all  the  feelings 
of  their  nature.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
the  decision  of  an  Apostle,  "  Every 
creature  of  God  is  good,  and  nothing  to 
be  refused,  if  it  be  received  with  thanks- 
giving. "  It  is  the  abuse,  not  the  use 
of  the  creature  which  God  hath  forbid- 
den. His  prohibition  commences  only 
where  indulgence  virtually  defeats  its 
own  end,  the  ministering  to  happiness  :  it 
allows  all  the  participation  which  beings, 
conscious  of  immortality,  can  enjoy  with- 
out a  blush.  And  how,  knowing  this — 
for  ye  do  know  it ;  ye  know  that  religion 
is  not  meant  to  turn  the  earth  into  a 
desert;  ye  know  that  practically  it  does 
not  turn  the  earth  into  a  desert,  for  that 
religious  persons  may  have  their  share 
in  all  that  is  really  bright  and  sweet  in 
life,  yea,  and  relish  it  the  more  as  the 
gift  of  a  heavenly  Father,  and  enjoy  it 
the  more  because  enjoying  it  temperate- 
ly and  subordinately — how  is  it,  that, 
knowing  all  this,  ye  contrive  to  justify 
yourselves  in  continued  disregard  of  the 
demands  and  duties  of  religion  %     Ah 


THE   MISREPRESENTATIONS   OP  EVE. 


1SJ 


we  will  not  pretend  to  follow  you  into 
every  subterfuge,  nor  to  dissect  every 
falsehood.  But  we  look  at  the  cast;  of 
our  first  mother  :  we  see  how,  when  she 
was  inclining  to  disobedience,  she 
wrought  herself  up  into  opposition  to 
the  commadnment  by  perversely  magni- 
fying its  strictness.  And  we  can  believe 
that  you  do  much  the  same.  You  take 
pains  to  hide  from  yourselves  the  real 
facts  of  the  case.  You  leave  out  a 
word,  when  you  speak  of  God's  permis- 
sions ;  you  put  in  words,  when  you 
speak  of  his  prohibitions.  When  God 
hath  said,  "Ye  shall  not  eat  of  it,  "  and 
ye  are  secretly  persuaded  that  herein 
He  hath  only  consulted  for  your  good, 
ye  repeat,  as  your  version  of  the  com- 
mandment, till  perhaps  you  almost  be- 
lieve it  to  be  true,  "  Ye  shall  not  eat  of 
it,  neither  shall  ye  touch  it." 

But  there  was  a  yet  worse  symptom 
in  Eve,  one  still  more  indicative  of  the 
fatal  disease  which  was  making  way  in- 
to her  veins.  It  was  bad  enough,  whe- 
ther to  depreciate  God's  permission,  or 
to  exaggerate  his  prohibition ;  but  it 
was  worse  to  soften  away  his  threaten- 
ings. This  showed  the  workings  of  un- 
belief; and  there  could,  indeed,  have 
been  but  a  step  between  our  common 
mother  and  ruin,  when  she  had  brought 
herself  to  look  doubtingly  on  the  word 
of  the  Lord.  And  this  symptom  is  even 
more  strongly  marked  than  those  which 
we  have  already  examined.  The  de- 
claration of  God  had  been,  "  Thou  shall 
not  eat  of  it;  for  in  the  day  that  thou 
eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die." 
But  what  is  Eve's  version  of  this  strong 
and  unqualified  declaration  ]  "  Ye  shall 
not  eat  of  it,  lest  ye  die.  "  '•  Lest  ye 
die,  "  this  is  what  she  substitutes  for 
"  in  the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof, 
thou  shalt  surely  die."  "  Lest  ye  die,  " 
an  expression  which  implies  a  sort  of 
chance,  a  contingency,  a  bare  possibility, 
what  might  happen,  or  might  not  hap- 
pen, what  might  happen  soon,  or  might 
not  happen  for  years — it  is  thus  she  puts 
a  denunciation  as  express,  as  explicit, 
as  language  can  furnish,  "  in  the  day 
that  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  sure- 
ly die.  "  Alas  now  for  Eve!  Harbor- 
ing a  thought  that  God  would  not  carry 
his  threatenings  into  execution — and  this 
she  must  have  harbored,  ere  she  could 
have  softened  these  threatenings  into 
"  lest  ye  die  " — no  marvel  if  she  gaye  a 


ready  ear  to  the  lie  of  the  serpent,  "  Yd 
shall  not  surely  die.  "  She  had  whis- 
pered his  lie  to  herself,  before  it  was 
uttered  by  Satan  :  the  devil  could  do 
little  then,  and  he  can  do  little  now,  ex 
cept  as  openings  are  made  for  him  by 
those  on  whom  he  seeks  to  work.  It 
was  probably  the  incipient  unbelief, 
manifested  by  the  "  lest  ye  die  "  of  Eve, 
which  suggested,  as  the  best  mode  ot 
attack,  the  "ye  shall  not  surely  die  "  of 
Satan.  The  devil  may  well  hope  to  be 
believed,  so  soon  as  he  sees  symptoms 
of  God's  being  disbelieved. 

And  if  we  could  charge  upon  num- 
bers, in  the  present  day,  the  imitating 
Eve  in  the  disparaging  God's  permis- 
sions, and  the  exaggerating  his  prohibi- 
tions, can  we  have  any  difficulty  in  con- 
tinuing the  parallel,  now  that  the  thing 
done  is  the  making  light  of  his  threaten- 


ings 


Why,  what  fills  hell  like  the  se- 


cretly cherished  thought,  that  perhaps, 
after  all,  there  may  be  no  hell  to  fill '? 
What  is  a  readier,  or  more  frequent, 
engine  for  the  destruction  of  the  soul, 
than  a  false  idea  of  the  compassion  of 
God  as  sure  to  interfere,  either  to  short- 
en the  duration,  or  to  mitigate  the  in- 
tenseness,  of  future  punishment,  if  not 
altogether  to  prevent  its  infliction  1  God 
hath  said,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth,  it 
shall  die.  "  But  when  men  come  to 
give  their  version  of  so  stern  and  em- 
phatic a  declaration,  they  put  it  virtual- 
ly into  some  such  shape  as  this,  "  The 
soul  should  not  sin,  lest  it  die.  "  Christ 
hath  said,  "  He  that  believeth,  and  is 
baptized,  shall  be  saved ;  but  he  that 
believeth  not  shall  be  damned;  "  men, 
however,  practically  throw  this  sweep- 
ing and  startling  affirmation  into  a  much 
smoother  formula,  "  Believe  upon  Christ, 
lest  ye  die." 

"  Lest  ye  die  " — is  this  then  all  ]  is 
there  any  doubt  1  is  it  a  contingency  1 
is  it  a  may  be  1  "  Lest  ye  die,"  when 
God  hath  said,  "  Ye  shall  surely 
die. "  "  Lest  ye  die,"  when  God  hath 
said,  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned 
into  hell,  and  all  the  people  that  for- 
get God."  "  Lest  ye  die,"  when  God 
hath  said,  "  Be  not  deceived :  neither 
fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulter- 
ers, nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards,  nor 
revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inheri« 
the  kingdom  of  God."  Nay,  ye  may 
give  the  paragraph  a  smoother  turn, 
out  ye  cannot  give  the  punishment  a 


186 


THE  MISREPRESENTATIONS  OF  EVE. 


shorter  term.  Ye  may  soften  away  the 
expressions,  ye  can  neither  abbreviate 
nor  mitigate  the  vengeance.  "  If  we 
believe  not,"  saith  St.  Paul,  "  yet  He 
abideth  faithful,  He  cannot  deny  Him- 
self." It  may  make  punishment  all  the 
more  tremendous,  that  there  hath  been 
the  secret  indulgence  of  a  hope  that 
God  would  never  execute  his  threaten- 
ings  to  the  letter ;  but,  assuredly,  such 
a  hope,  as  being  itself  but  the  offspring 
of  unbelief,  can  never  produce  change, 
in  the  declared  purpose  of  the  moral 
Governor  of  the  universe. 

And  yet,  such  is  the  constancy  in  hu- 
man perverseness,  the  feeling  which 
wrought  in  Eve,  before  she  eat  the  fatal 
fruit,  is  just  that  which  is  most  power- 
fully at  work  amongst  her  descendants. 
There  is  not  perhaps  one  of  you,  who, 
if  he  be  still  living  in  unrepented  sin,  is 
not  secretly  disposed  to  the  regarding 
God  as  loo  gracious  to  visit  iniquity 
with  everlasting  destruction,  to  the  re- 
solving into  the  exaggerations  of  the 
priesthood,  or,  at  all  events,  into  denun- 
ciations whose  ends  will  be  answered 
by  their  delivery  without  their  execu- 
tion, the  tremendous  announcements  of 
a  worm  that  dieth  not,  and  of  a  fire  that 
is  not  quenched. 

It  is  not,  that,  if  ye  were  pushed  into 
an  argument,  or  urged  to  a  confession, 
ye  would,  in  so  many  words,  assert  an 
expectation  of  such  a  difference  between 
punishment  as  threatened,  and  punish- 
ment as  put  in  force,  as  might  make  it 
comparatively  safe  for  you  to  set  at 
nought  God's  law.  We  do  not  suppose 
that  Eve  would  have  done  this  :  she 
Avould  not,  even  to  herself,  have  ac- 
knowledged so  much  as  this.  But  it  is, 
that  ye  have  a  smooth  way  of  putting 
the  threatenings  of  the  law ;  you  per- 


haps think  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
metaphor  in  the  Bible,  much  which  was 
never  meant  to  be  literally  understood, 
much  which  was  only  for  local  or  tem- 
porary application  ;  and  so,  at  last, 
"  lest  ye  die,"  an  expression  which  just 
implies  some  measure  of  risk,  comes  to 
pass  with  you  (so  far  as  you  think  on 
such  matters  at  all)  as  a  .very  fair  expo- 
sition of  "  Ye  shall  surely  die,  "  an  ex- 
pression denoting  the  most  absolute  cer- 
tainty. 

But,  now,  be  warned  by  the  instance 
of  Eve.  She  allowed  herself  to  give  a 
smooth  turn  to  the  threatening  of  God. 
She  invented,  and  never  was  invention 
so  pregnant  with  disaster  to  the  world, 
the  doubtful  suggestion,  "  Lest  ye  die," 
as  a  substitute  for  the  awful  affirmation, 
"  Ye  shall  surely  die."  But,  acting  on 
the  supposition  that  "  Lest  ye  die," 
might  fairly  pass  as  the  meaning  of  •'  Ye 
shall  surely  die,"  she  "  brought  death 
into  the  world,  and   all  our  woe." 

In  her  case,  indeed,  tremendous 
though  the  consequences  were,  there 
was  a  remedy  :  our  first  parents  fell, 
but  were  arrested  by  a  Mediator  in  their 
fatal  descent.  But  in  your  case — if  the 
soul  be  staked  on  the  chance,  that  God 
threatens  more  than  He  will  execute, 
and  if  ye  find,  as  find  ye  must,  that  "  ye 
shall  surely  die  "  meant  what  it  said — 
no  exaggeration,  no  metaphor — alas  ! 
there  will  then  be  no  remedy  for  you  : 
the  hour  will  be  passed,  the  day  will  be 
gone  :  though  now  a  Mediator  waits  to 
make  true  to  all  penitents  the  bold  false- 
hood of  Satan,  "  Ye  shall  not  surely 
die,"  there  shall  be  no  deliverance  here- 
after for  such  as  have  been  presumptu- 
ous enough  to  sin,  in  the  hope,  or  with 
the  thought,  that  God  will  not  be  stem 
enough  to  strike. 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


137 


SERMON  VII 


•SEEKING  AFTER  FINDING. 


They  shall  ask  the  way  to  Zion,  with  their  faces  thitherward." — Jeremiah  1.  5. 


The  chapter  from  which  these  words 
are  taken  is  filled  with  predictions  of 
the  overthrow  of  Babylon,  and  of  the 
deliverance  of  the  Jews  from  their 
haughty  oppressors.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  these  predictions  had  at  least 
a  primary  reference  to  the  demolition  of 
the  Chaldean  Empire  by  Cyrus,  and  to 
the  consequent  emancipation  of  the  cap- 
tive citizens  of  Jerusalem.  But,  as  is 
generally  if  not  always  the  case  with 
prophecies  of  this  class,  there  would  ap- 
pear to  be  a  secondary  reference  to  the 
destruction  of  the  mystic  Babylon,  close- 
ly associated  as  it  will  be  with  the  re- 
storation of  the  scattered  tribes  of  Israel, 
and  with  the  triumphant  estate  of  the 
Christian  Church. 

It  would  seem  that  from  the  first  the 
enemies  of  God  and  his  people  which 
one  age  has  produced,  have  served  as 
types  of  those  who  will  arise  in  the  lat- 
ter days  of  the  world ;  and  that  the 
judgments  by  which  they  have  been 
overtaken,  have  been  so  constructed  as 
to  figure  the  final  vengeance  on  Anti- 
christ and  his  followers.  Hence  it  is 
that  so  many  prophecies  appear  to  re- 
quire as  well  as  to  admit  a  double  ful- 
filment ;  they  could  hardly  delineate  the 
type  and  not  delineate  also  the  antitype ; 
whilst  we  may  believe  that  the  Spirit, 
which  moved  the  holy  men  of  old,  de- 
signed that  what  it  inspired  should  serve 
for  the  instruction  of  remote  ages  as 
well  as  of  near. 

That  the  predictions  in  the  chapter 
before  us  referred  to  what  is  yet  future, 
as  well  as  to  what  has  long  ago  passed, 
will  appear  from  a  careful  attention  to 
the  terms  in  which  they  are  couched. 
In  the  verse  immediately  preceding  our 


text,  you  find  this  statement :  "  In  those 
days,  and  in  that  time,  saith  the  Lord, 
the  children  of  Israel  shall  come,  they 
and  the  children  of  Judah  together,  go- 
ing and  weeping  :  they  shall  go,  and 
seek  the  Lord  their  God."  These 
words  describe  a  great  national  contri- 
tion. The  scattered  tribes  have  been 
brought  to  a  deep  sense  of  their  rebel- 
lion against  the  God  of  their  fathers,  and 
are  inclined  accordingly  to  return  to  his 
service.  But  it  would  hardly  appear 
that  there  was  any  such  general  repent- 
ance preparatory  to  the  return  of  the 
Jews  from  Babylon,  though  we  have 
decisive  testimony,  from  various  parts  of 
Scripture,  that  there  will  be  antecedent- 
ly to  the  final  restoration  of  the  Israel- 
ites to  Canaan.  And  besides  this,  you 
will  not  fail  to  observe  that  the  children 
of  Israel  are  here  combined  with  the 
children  of  Judah ;  whereas  only  the  lat- 
ter were  captives  in  Babylon,  and  only 
the  latter  were  emancipated  by  Cyrus. 
Whenever,  as  in  tihs  instance,  prophecy 
speaks  of  any  gathering  together  of  the 
twelve  tribes,  of  which  the  kingdom  of 
Israel  had  ten,  that  of  Judah  only  two, 
we  seem  obliged  to  understand  it  as  re- 
lating to  the  future  ;  there  having  as 
yet  been  no  event  which  can  be  regard- 
ed as  the  predicted  restoiation  of  the 
ten  tribes  whom  Shalmaneser  removed. 
On  this  and  other  accounts  which  it  is 
not  important  to  specify,  we  conclude 
that  in  its  secondary,  if  not  in  its  prima- 
ry, application,  our  text  is  connected  with 
that  august  event,  the  theme  of  so  many 
prophecies,  the  centre  of  so  many  hopes, 
the  reinstatement  in  Canaan  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel.  And  it  may  possibly 
indicate  from  what  various  and  remote 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


districts  of  the  earth  shall  the  exiles  be 
gathered,  that  there  is  to  be  that  igno- 
rance of  the  road  to  Jerusalem  which  the 
words  before  us  express.  We  know 
that  the  whole  globe  is  strewed  with 
the  Jews,  so  that  you  can  scarcely  find 
the  country  where  this  people,  though 
distinct  from  every  other,  has  not  made 
itself  a  home.  But  the  dwelling-place 
of  the  ten  tribes  is  still  an  unsolved 
problem  :  neither  the  navigator  in  his 
voyagings  round  the  world,  nor  the  tra- 
veller in  his  searchings  over  continents, 
has  yet  lighted  on  the  mysterious  seclu- 
sion where  rest  the  descendants  of  those 
who,  for  their  sins,  were  cast  out  from 
Samaria.  It  may  well  then  be,  that  when, 
moved  by  one  impulse  from  above,  the 
thousands  of  the  chosen  seed,  whether  in 
the  east,  or  west,  or  north,  or  south,  shall 
resolve  on  seeking  the  land  of  their 
fathers,  it  will  be  almost  like  the  quest 
of  some  unknown  region,  so  indistinct 
will  be  the  memory,  and  so  darkened 
the  tradition,  of  the  long-lost  inheritance. 
With  numbers  there  may  be  nothing  be- 
yond a  vague  knowledge  of  the  direc- 
tion in  which  Palestine  must  lie,  so  that 
they  will  be  able  to  turn  their  faces 
thitherward,  but  not  to  determine  by 
what  road  to  proceed.  And  this  is  pre- 
cisely what  is  represented  in  our  text. 
The  children  of  Israel  and  the  children 
of  Judah,  dissolved  in  tears  on  account 
of  their  now  felt  ingratitude  and  wick- 
edness, have  turned  themselves  towards 
Jerusalem,  but  are  still  forced  to  inquire 
the  way.  One  seems  to  behold  a  band 
of  the  exiles  weeping  and  nevertheless 
exulting,  penetrated  with  sorrow  for 
sins,  and  yet  animated  with  the  persua- 
sion that  the  Lord  was  about  to  make 
bare  his  arm  and  gather  home  his  banish- 
ed ones.  They  press  along  the  desert, 
they  crowd  to  the  shore ;  and  of  every 
one  whom  they  meet  they  demand,  in  a 
voice  of  eagerness  and  anxiety,  Where, 
where  is  our  home,  the  beautiful  land 
which  God  gave  to  our  fathers,  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob  1 

But  you  will  readily  judge  that  it  can- 
not be  on  this,  the  literal  sense  or  ful- 
filment of  the  text,  that  we  design  to 
speak  at  any  length.  You  are  always 
prepared  for  our  regarding  the  Jews  as  a 
typical  people,  and  finding  in  the  events 
of  their  history  emblems  of  what  occurs 
to  the  Christian  Church.  We  shall 
therefore  at  once  detach  the  text  from 


its  connexion  with  the  Jews,  whether  in 
their  past  deliverance  from  Babylon,  or 
their  yet  future  restoration  to  Canaan, 
and  consider  it  as  descriptive  of  what 
may  be  found  amongst  Christians,  who 
have  to  quit  a  moral  bondage,  and  find 
their  way  to  a  spiritual  Zion. 

The  singularity  of  the  passage,  when 
thus  interpreted  or  applied,  lies  in  the 
face  of  the  inquirer  being  towards  Zi- 
on, whilst  he  is  yet  forced  to  ask  what 
road  he  ought  to  take.  "  They  shall  ask 
the  way  to  Zion,  with  their  faces  thither- 
ward." They  are  in  the  right  road,  or 
at  least  are  advancing  in  the  right  direc- 
tion ;  but,  nevertheless,  whether  through 
ignorance,  or  through  fear  of  even  the 
possibility  of  mistake,  they  continually 
make  inquiries  as  to  the  path  to  be  fol- 
lowed. We  think  that  this  circum- 
stance, if  considered  as  to  be  exempli- 
fied in  our  own  spiritual  history,  will  fur- 
nish abundant  material  for  interesting 
and  profitable  discourse.  It  is  a  cir- 
cumstance which  indicates  such  honesty 
of  purpose  in  the  inquirer,  such  vigi- 
lance, such  circumspection,  such  anxiety 
to  be  right,  and  such  dread  of  being 
wrong,  as  should  distinguish  every 
Christian,  though  too  often  we  look  for 
them  in  vain.  And,  at  the  same  time, 
we  evidently  learn  that  persons  are  not 
always  fair  judges  of  their  spiritual  con- 
dition ;  they  may  be  asking  the  way  like 
those  who  are  in  ignorance  and  darkness, 
and  all  the  while  their  faces  may  be  to- 
wards Zion.  Let  it  be  our  endeavor  to 
compass  different  classes  within  our  pre- 
sent discourse  ;  considering  in  the  first 
place,  the  case  of  those  who,  though 
going  right,  suppose  themselves  going 
wrong  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  that 
of  those  who  believe  themselves  right, 
but  yet  desire  further  assurance  ;  for  of 
both  classes  it  may  equally  be  said, 
"  They  ask  the  way  to  Zion,  with  their 
faces  thitherward." 

Now  it  is  the  object  of  such  parables 
as  that  of  the  tares -and  the  wheat,  or 
that  of  the  great  net  let  down  into  the 
sea,  and  which  gathered  of  all  kinds, 
bad  as  well  as  good,  to  teach  us  that, 
there  is  to  be  a  mixture  in  the  visible 
Church,  and  that  it  is  not  men's  busi- 
ness to  attempt  a  separation.  W"e  are 
all  too  much  disposed  to  exercise  a 
spirit  of  judgment,  to  pronounce  opin- 
ions on  the  condition  of  our  fellow-men, 
whether  the  living  or  the  dead,  just  as 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


ISO 


though  we  had  access  to  God's  book, 
and  could  infallibly  read  its  registered 
decisions.  But  there  is  every  thing  in 
the  Bible  to  warn  us  against  this  spirit 
of  judgment,  and  to  urge  us,  on  the 
contrary,  to  a  spirit  of  charity  ;  our  ina- 
bility to  read  the  heart,  which  is  the  pre- 
rogative of  God  alone,  being  given  as  a 
sufficient  reason  why  we  should  refrain 
from  passing  verdicts  ;  and  our  duty  as 
members  of  the  same  mystic  body,  be- 
ing set  forth  as  that  of  hoping  all  things, 
hearing  one  another's  burdens,  rather 
than  scrutinizing  one  another's  faults. 

And  a  very  comforting  remembrance 
it  is,  that  we  are  not  to  stand  <fr  fall  by 
human  decision,  that  our  portion  for 
eternity  is  not  to  be  settled  by  what  men 
think  of  us  here ;  for  so  furious  is  the 
spirit  of  religious  party,  and  so  deter- 
mined are  numbers  on  making  their  own 
favorite  dogma  the  alone  passport  to 
heaven,  that  many  of  the  most  lowly  fol- 
lowers of  Christ  would  be  given  over  to 
perdition,  and  many  of  the  most  arro- 
gant  boasters  chartered  for  everlasting 
life,  were  the  verdicts  of  the  Christian 
world  to  be  final,  and  no  appeal  to  lie 
to  a  higher  tribunal.  We  always  think 
that  there  is  something  very  touching  in 
those  words  of  the  Redeemer,  "  My 
sheep  hear  my  voice,  and  I  know  them." 
It  is  as  much  as  to  say,  the  world  may 
not  know  them;  in  the  judgment  of 
men,  many  pass  for  my  sheep  who  are 
not,  and  many  who  are,  may  be  excluded 
from  my  flock ;  but  I,  I  who  cannot  be 
deceived,  I  know  my  sheep,  and  will  in- 
fallibly distinguish  them  at  last  from  the 
goats. 

But  not  only  are  men  likely  to  deliver 
a  false  judgment  upon  others,  and  there- 
fore bound  to  confine  their  chief  scru- 
tiny to  themselves,  it  is  further  very 
possible  that  they  may  form  a  wrong 
opinion  of  their  own  spiritual  state,  not 
only,  as  you  all  know,  in  concluding 
themselves  safe  whilst  in  danger,  but,  as 
is  perhaps  less  suspected,  in  concluding 
themselves  in  danger  whilst  safe.  In 
his  more  private  ministrations  amongst 
his  people,  a  clergyman  will  not  unfre- 
quently  find  the  case  of  a  depressed  and 
disconsolate  individual,  who  obtains  none 
of  the  comforts,  though  he  is  all  alive  to 
the  duties,  of  religion.  It  gives  him  no 
surprise  that  there  should  be  such  cases  ; 
for  he  knows  that  they  are  expressly 
provided  for  in  Scripture, — as,  for  ex- 


ample, in  that  passage  of  the  prophet 
Isaiah,  "  Who  is  among  you  that  fear- 
eth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the  voice  of 
his  servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness, 
and  hath  no  light  1  let  him  trust  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  his 
God."  Here  the  case  is  evidently  sup- 
posed of  religion  existing  in  its  genuine- 
ness, though  in  none  of  its  comforts  :  the 
man  fears  the  Lord,  and  obeys  the  voice 
of  his  servant;  but,  all  the  while,  is  sur- 
rounded by  impenetrable  darkness,  even 
darkness  which  may  be  felt.  And  the 
direction  to  such  a  man,*  a  direction  to 
stay  himself  upon  his  God,  is  one  which 
clearly  assumes  the  reality  of  his  piety, 
and  as  clearly  asserts  that  he  is  not  in 
danger,  because  not  in  light. 

But  whilst  the  minister  is  quite  pre- 
pared for  these  cases,  and  quite  aware 
that  the  spiritual  gloom  is  no  index  of 
the  spiritual  state,  he  finds  them  singu- 
larly difficult  and  perplexing;  and  that, 
too,  because  they  are  commonly  the 
cases  of  parties  suffering  from  bodily 
disease,  disease  perhaps  of  the  nerves, 
and  whom  that  very  circumstance  inca- 
pacitates forjudging  with  accuracy  their 
spiritual  state.  If,  through  God's  bless- 
ing on  the  prescriptions  of  the  physician, 
a  more  wholesome  tone  be  given  to 
the  nervous  system,  brighter  views  will 
quickly  be  reached  of  the  condition  of 
the  soul :  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  sick- 
ness increase,  the  moral  darkness  will 
become  thicker  and  thicker  :  and  whilst 
the  minister  is  thoroughly  assured  that 
all  these  alternations  are  but  proofs  how 
the  body  can  act  upon  the  mind,  and 
therefore  noways  affect  the  spiritual  es- 
tate,, the  patient  will  take  them  as  so 
many  evidences  of  advance  or  decline  in 
genuine  religion. 

We  know  nothing  to  be  done,  in  these 
and  the  like  cases,  but  the  endeavoring 
to  shew  men  how  utterly  distinct  are  the 
reality  of  religion  and  its  comforts  ;  and 
how  independent  is  that  which  is  to  save 
them  on  the  frames  and  feelings  of  which 
they  may  be  conscious.  They  are  down- 
cast because  faith  seems  weak,  or  elated 
because  it  seems  strong ;  whereas  it  is 
not  faith  which  is  to  save  them,  but 
Christ;  and  whilst  faith,  whether  in  it- 
self or  its  evidences,  may  change  from 
day  to  day,  Christ  changes  not,  but  is 
"the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever." And  we  always  think  it  safe  to 
tell  those  who  are  spiritually  depressed, 


190 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


that  their  very  depression  is  no  mean 
argument  of  their  safety  ;  for  so  unnatu- 
ral is  it  to  man  to  feel  anxious  for  his 
soul,  that,  wheresoever  there  is  the 
anxiety,  we  recognize  a  higher  agency, 
even  a  Divine,  as  having  wrought  to  ex- 
cite the  solicitude.  It  certainly  follows, 
that  the  man  who  is  depressed  as  to  his 
state  before  God,  must  be  anxious  as  to 
that  state ;  and  we  know  not  how,  as  a 
corrupt  and  fallen  creature,  he  was  to 
have  become  thus  anxious,  had  not  God's 
Spirit  acted  on  his  conscience,  and  com- 
menced in  him  a  work  of  moral  renova- 
tion. So  that  there  ought  to  be  comfort 
even  in  the  very  wretchedness  :  you 
would  not  have  been  thus  disquieted  had 
you  been  left  to  yourselves  ;  and  that 
you  have  not  been  left  to  yourselves 
should  prove  to  you  that  God  is  not  wil- 
ling that  you  should  perish,  nay,  that 
He  has  already  undertaken  the  bringing 
you  to  Himself. 

And  over  and  above  these  cases  of 
depression,  in  which  one  cause  or  an- 
other weaves  darkness  round  a  man,  so 
that,  whilst  his  face  is  towards  Zion,  he 
cannot  perceive  that  he  is  on  the  road 
to  the  heavenly  city,  we  nothing  doubt 
that  there  are  many  instances  of  parties, 
who  have  begun  in  true  religion,  and 
nevertheless  think  that  the  first  step  has 
not  been  taken.  It  is  not  always,  nay, 
it  is  not,  we  believe,  often,  that  conver- 
sion is  suddenly  effected,  nor  through 
some  special  instrumentality  which  fixes, 
as  it  were,  the  date  of  the  change.  In 
the  majority  of  cases,  the  change,  we 
are  inclined  to  believe,  is  gradual,  im- 
perceptibly effected,  so  that,  although 
the  man  becomes  at  length  conscious  of 
a  great  moral  alteration,  he  cannot  tell 
you  when  it  commenced,  nor  by  what 
steps  it  went  on.  There  is  no  one  thing 
more  distinguishable  from  another,  than 
is  the  converted  state  from  the  uncon- 
verted; but  the  transition  from  tbe  one 
to  the  other  may  be  accomplished  by 
such  slow  degrees,  that  the  individual, 
who  is  its  subject,  shall  not  know  with 
precision  when  or  where  the  first  move- 
ment took  place. 

And  vve  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that 
many,  who  would  not  venture  to  think 
themselves  on  the  way  to  Zion,  are  ac- 
tually walking  in  the  direction  of  that 
city.  They  who  have  a  sincere  wish  to 
be  enabled  to  forsake  sin,  and  who  are 
endeavoring  accordingly  to  break  away 


from  evil  habits  ;  they  who  tremble  at 
God's  word,  though  as  yet  they  have  not 
found  a  shelter  from  its  threatenings  ; 
they  who  are  so  moved  by  a  sense  of 
danger  that  they  earnestly  inquire, 
"  What  must  we  do  to  be  saved  1 " 
though  they  have  not  yet  heard  the  an- 
swer in  the  depths  of  the  heart — on  all 
these  the  minister  of  the  Gospel  looks 
with  great  hopefulness  :  they  may  not 
themselves  be  aware  of  their  having  ac- 
tually entered  the  heavenward  path  ;  but 
he  considers  their  anxiety,  their  fear, 
their  solicitude,  as  so  many  evidences 
of  their  having  begun  in  religion,  and  he 
anticipates,  with  indescribable  pleasure, 
their  being  "  followers  of  them  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the 
promises."  Regarding  conversion  as  a 
gradual  work,  a  work  in  which  "  one 
soweth  and  another  reapeth,"  we  do  not 
look  on  those,  who  are  evidently  con- 
firmed believers,  as  the  only  travellers 
towards  the  celestial  city  :  we  rejoice 
in  thinking  that  there  are  numbers,  in 
whom  the  moral  change  is  not  yet  dis- 
tinctly marked,  but  who  are  neverthe- 
less in  the  act  of  passing  the  strait  gate. 

Yea,  with  every  wish  to  avoid  giving 
encouragement  where  there  is  yet  need- 
ed warning,  we  do  feel  authorized  in 
taking  fears  for  the  soul,  and  desires  for 
its  safety,  as  evidences  of  a  man's  being 
in  the  pathway  of  life.  We  migbt  al- 
most say,  that,  in  religion,  anxiety  to  be- 
gin is  itself  a  beginning :  the  seeking 
the  road  is  the  being  in  the  road :  and 
though  the  inquirers  themselves  may 
not  venture  to  think  that  they  have  yet 
done  more  than  inquire,  oh,  we  can  re- 
gard them  as  having  already  virtually 
found  that  of  which  they  are  in  quest  : 
they  may  only  consider  themselves  as 
asking  the  way  to  Zion  ;  but  we  can 
feel  that  they  are  of  those  who  ask  the 
way  to  Zion  "  with  their  faces  thither- 
ward." 

But  let  us  pass  on  to  the  case  of  men, 
in  regard  of  whom  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  they  have  made  a  beginning,  and 
let  us  see  what  our  text  may  indicate  as 
to  these  more  advanced  characters.  We 
may  justly  suppose  that  the  parties,  to 
whom  the  prophecy  originally  applied, 
had  set  out  on  the  journey  from  Babylon 
to  Zion  :  they  had  commenced ;  but, 
either  through  finding  themselves  in 
places  where  different  roads  met,  or 
through  desire  to  be  more  and  more  as- 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


191 


sured  of  being  right,  they  still  ask  the 
way  to  the  land  ot"  their  fathers.  And 
we  hardly  know  where  to  begin,  in 
pointing  out  to  you  how  illustrative  this 
should  be  of  the  conduct  of  the  Chris- 
tian, as  he  journeys  towards  the  hea- 
venly inheritance.  There  are  many 
things  indicated  by  this  asking  the  way 
to  Zion,  on  which  it  would  be  well  that 
your  attention  should  be  turned. 

Let  it  first  be  observed,  that  a  Chris- 
tian should  never  be  too  confident ;  that 
he  should  never  take  for  granted,  as  a 
point  on  which  there  could  notbedoubt, 
that  he  is  indeed  "  a  new  creature,"  and 
on  the  high  road  to  the  kingdom.  "Ex- 
amine yourselves,  whether  ye  be  in  the 
faith,"  is  a  precept  which  cannot  be  in- 
appropriate at  any  stage  of  the  Christian 
life  ;  for  where  a  mistake  is  so  possible, 
and  where  the  consequences  of  a  mis- 
take are  so  disastrous,  it  is  the  part  of 
common  prudence  to  be  frequently  con- 
sidering whether  or  not  we  have  been 
deceiving  ourselves,  having  a  name  to 
live,  whilst  yet  dead  in  God's  sight.  We 
have  no  wish,  indeed,  to  debar  you  from 
the  enjoyment  of  the  privileges  of  the 
Gospel :  we  are  only  anxious  that  your 
title  to  these  privileges  should  be  clear ; 
and  this,  we  are  persuaded,  it  cannot 
be,  except  through  a  frequent  process 
of  close  self-examination.  For  it  is  not 
a  general  sense  of  your  election  unto 
life  which  should  satisfy  you  of  your 
safety.  This  may  be,  and  often  is,  no- 
thing more  than  a  suggestion  of  Satan 
to  blind  you  to  your  danger.  Do  you 
find  an  increasing  delight  in  secret  pray- 
er 1  does  sin  seem  to  you  more  and  more 
odious  ]  are  you  more  and  more  pene- 
trated by  the  exceeding  great  love  of 
God  in  giving  his  Son  to  die  for  your 
sakes  1  is  holiness  becoming  your  hap- 
piness, duty  your  privilege,  and  heaven 
the  very  home  of  your  affections  1  These, 
and  the  like,  question^  are  those  which 
you  should  be  frequently  proposing  to 
yourselves.  On  the  answer  to  these,  an 
answer  given  as  in  the  sight  of  a  heart- 
searching  God,  should  rest  your  answer 
to  the  most  momentous  of  all  questions, 
"Are  we  on  the  way  to  Zion  1  " 

And  if  t^e  answer  to  this  last  question 
can  only  be  come  at  through  the  answer 
to  a  series  of  inquiries,  each  of  which 
may  be  said  to  need,  from  its  very  na- 
ture, the  being  daily  proposed,  it  neces- 
sarily follows,  that  you  ought  to  be  imi- 


]  taring  the  children  of  Judah  and  Israel, 
asking  as  to  the  road  to  Zion,  however 
you  may  hope  that  your  faces  are  al- 
ready thitherward.     Can  this  be  the  way 

J  to  Zion  in  which  I  am  ?  Ask  the  dead, 
who  have  reached  that  heavenly  city  : 
with  one  voice  they  will  tell  you,  that, 
if  it.be  the  right  way,  it  is  a  way  of  self- 
denial,  leading  you  through  mortified 
lusts,  and  over  subjugated  affections ;  and 
then  judge  ye  whether  or  not  it  be  such 
a  way  in  which  you  are  found.  Ask  the 
living,  of  whom  you  have  besi  cause  to 
believe  that  they  are  heirs  of  the  king- 
dom :  they  will  assure  you  that  the  way 
is  one  of  faith  and  obedience,  every  step 
of  which  is  an  advance  in  the  knowledge 
of  your  own  depraved  hearts,  and  in  the 
sense  of  the  worth  and  sufficiency  of 
Christ ;  and  then  judge  ye  whether  or 
not  this  can  be  the  way  in  which  you  are 
walking.  Ask  the  Bible,  on  whose  pa- 
ges the  Holy  Spirit  hath  mapped  out 
the  path,  and  it  will  tell  you  that  the 
way  is  a  narrow  way,  which  will  not 
admit  of  your  encumbering  yourselves 
with  perishable  things,  but  which  can 
be  traversed  only  by  those  who  lay  aside 
every  weight ;  and  then  judge  ye  whe- 
ther ye  have  obtained  the  description  of 
a  path  which  ye  yourselves  are  pursu- 
ing. And  ask  ye,  yet  further,  of  God. 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  practice  of 
the  Psalmist ;  for  you  may  remember 
his  words,  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and 
know  my  heart ;  try  me,  and  know  my 
thoughts  ;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wick- 
ed way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way 
everl  tsting."  By  diligent  and  fervent 
prayer,  make  inquiry  of  God  as  to  the 
road  which  conducts  to  the  place  where 
He  dwells.  And  the  answer,  to  this  in- 
quiry, an  answer,  which,  if  there  be  sin 
cerity  in  the  inquirer,  shall  certainly  not 
be  withheld,  will  expose  to  you  the  de- 
ceitfulness  of  all  hope  of  reaching  Zion, 
which  is  not  founded  on  the  appropria- 
tion of  the  merits  of  the  Redeemer,  the 
reality  of  that  appropriation  being  proved 
by  the  produced  fruits  of  righteousness; 
and  then  determine  whether  such  an- 
swer ought  to  leave  you  assured  that 
you  are  not  self-deceived,  when  conclud- 
ing yourselves  in  the  heavenward  path. 
But  of  whomsoever  the  question  be 
asked,  we  wish  you  clearly  to  understand 
that  the  question  itself,  the  question  as 
to  the  way  to  Zion,  is  not  a  question  to 
be  put  by  none  but  beginners  in  religion, 


192 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


who  have  yet  to  learn  the  veiy  elements 
of*  Christianity,  and  to  take  the  first  step 
in  separation  from  the  world.  It  is  a 
question  for  the  most  advanced  Chris- 
tian amongst  you,  if  not  because  he  may 
be  ignorant  of  the  way  and  therefore 
need  direction,  yet  because  he  requires 
to  be  reminded  of  the  way,  that  he  may 
compare  his  own  course  with  the  chart, 
and  see  whether  he  have  not  wandered, 
turning  aside  either  to  the  right  hand  or 
the  left.  For  if  it  may  be,  as  we  have 
said  that  it  is,  by  almost  imperceptible 
steps  that  a  man  passes  from  the  side 
of  the  world  to  that  of  God,  he  may  also 
decline,  by  almost  imperceptible  steps, 
towards  that  which  he  hath  left — the 
swerving  being  at  each  point  so  slight 
as  scarce  to  be  observed,  although  a 
wide  angle  may  at  length  result  from 
successive  inconsiderable  flexions.  And 
if  indeed  it  be  possible,  that  a  man,  who 
has  entered  on  the  right  road,  may, 
through  want  of  constant  self-examina- 
tion, bend  from  that  road,  and  yet  hardly 
suspect  the  departure,  how  important 
that  Christians  should  imitate  the  Jews, 
who,  with  their  faces  towards  Zion,  were 
still  inquiring  the  road. 

It  is  not  doubt,  but  caution,  which  we 
would  teach  you  ;  not  the  being  always 
beginning,  but  the  being  always  diligent 


the  road  ;  and,  therefore,  is  an  inquiry 
as  to  the  way,  in  order  to  the  determin- 
ing whether  it  be  the  way  in  which  I 
walk,  the  only  inquiry  by  which,  at  any 
stage,  I  can  ascertain  my  safety.  In 
short,  I  am  not  to  conclude  that  I  must1 
be  in  the  right  way,  because  my  face, 
as  I  think,  is  Zionwartis  :  I  am  to  con- 
clude that  my  face  is  Zionwards,  by  ex- 
amining my  path,  comparing  it  with 
that  which  Scripture  delineates  as  con- 
ducting to  heaven,  and  proving  that  the 
two  are  one  and  the  same. 

It  may  not  have  been  from  actual  ig 
norance,  that  they,  who  had  been  de 
livered  from  Babylon,  asked,  with  so 
much  urgency,  the  road  to  Jerusalem. 
They  were  on  the  road,  and,  though 
half  blinded  with  the  tears  of  contrition, 
may  have  felt  that  they  could  scarcely 
go  wrong.  But  they  would  make  as- 
surance doubly  sure.  It  was  a  pleasure 
to  them  to  ask  the  name  of  every  valley 
which  they  crossed,  and  of  every  hill 
which  they  ascended,  and  to  receive  a 
reply  which  showed  them  that  theii 
course  was  indeed  towards  Zion.  And 
occasionally  they  stood  where  different 
roads  met — one  perhaps  apparently 
smooth,  and  leading  through  rich  smi- 
ling scenes  ;  and  the  other  rugged,  and 
going    off    towards    a    dreai-y    waste — 


to  "  make  your  calling  and  election  j  what  shall  they  do  but  pause  till  they 
sure."  We  do  not  wish  you  to  be  al-  can  clearly  determine  which  road  leads 
ways  uncertain  as  to  whether  or  not  your  ' 


faces  are  turned  towards  Zion  ;  but  we 
wish  you  to  understand  that  their  being 
so  turned  is  a  reason  in  favor  of,  not  a 
reason  against,  your  frequently  inquiring 
the  heavenly  path.  It  is  not  sufficient 
that  they  be  turned ;  the  great  matter 
is,  that  they  be  kept  turned  ;  and  whilst 
such  is  your  nature,  that,  without  con- 
stant vigilance,  the  direction  may  be 
gradually  changed,  and  yet  appear,  to 
you  the  same — even  as  the  eyes  of  a 
well-drawn  portrait  follow  you  as  you 
move,  and  so  might  persuade  you  that 
you  had  not  moved  at  all — it  is  evidently 
bound  on  you,  by  your  regard  for  your 
safety,  that  you  be  always  ascertaining 
the  landmarks,  in  place  of  judging  by 
your  apparent  position.  Is  my  life  the 
life  of  a  believer  in  Christ  ?  is  faith  pro- 
ducing piety, humility,  charity,  patience  ? 
These  are  the  very  milestones,  the  pil- 
lars, the  crosses,  on  the  road.  If  I 
search  not  for  these,  I  must  remain  with- 
out sufficient  evidence  of  my  being  on 


to  Zion  l  not  wishing  to  follow  the  at 
tractive  path,  if  it  do  not ;  eager  to  at- 
tempt the  repulsive,  if  it  do. 

And  in  all  this,  we  again  and  apain 
tell  you,  they  were  examples  to  the 
Christian  in  his  journey  to  the  spiritual 
Canaan.  He  can  never  be  too  sure  that 
he  is  right.  He  may  have  no  reason  to 
suspect  that  he  is  wrong ;  but  he  is 
wrong,  if,  on  that  account  alone,  he  con- 
clude himself  right.  Let  him  be  always 
questioning,  questioning  himself,  ques- 
tioning others,  inquiring  of  the  Bible, 
inquiring  of  God.  What  is  this  moun 
tain  before  me  ]  is  it  on  the  map  1  what 
is  this  valley  which  I  have  to  cross,  this 
stream  which  I  have  to  ford  1  are  they 
what  I  was  to  meet  with,  or  do  they  show 
that  I  have  wandered  1  And  here  the 
road  divides — which  turn  am  I  to  take  % 
what  is  to  decide  me  in  this  perplexity  % 
Let  me  be  firm  on  one  point — that  it  is 
the  direction  of  the  road,  not  its  quality, 
by  which  I  will  be  determined.  The 
road  which  leads  to  heaven,  that  is  my 


SEEKING,   AFTER  FINDING. 


193 


roa.l,  be  it,  or  be  it  not,  strewed  with 
the  rocks,  and  swept  by  the  torrents. 
Other  paths  may  look  more  inviting  : 
but  I  have  nothing  to  do  except  with 
their  termination  :  if  they  conduct  not 
to  Zion,  I  would  not  venture  to  follow 
them  even  a  solitary  step,  though  they 
might  lead  me  to  riches,  or  honors,  or  plea- 
sures. This  it  is  to  imitate  the  emancipa- 
ted J  ews.  Weep  with  them  if  you  will ; 
for  the  sins  of  every  day  furnish  but  too 
much  matter  for  godly  sorrow.  Turn 
your  faces,  with  them,  towards  Zion  : 
for  assuredly  this  is  not  your  rest,  and 
ye  are  but  strangers  and  pilgrims  be- 
low. But  be  always  on  the  watch,  lest 
ye  miss  the  narrow  path ;  lest,  through 
ignorance,  you  lake  the  road  which  looks 
plainest,  or,  through  indolence,  that 
which  seems  smoothest,  or,  through  self- 
indulgence,  that  which  promises  most  of 
present  advantage ;  and  thus,  let  this 
description  be  literally  applicable  to 
yourselves,  "  They  ask  the  way  to  Zion, 
with  their  faces  thitherward." 

But  there  is  yet  more  to  be  gathered 
from  this  description,  when  considered 
as  that  of  a  believer  in  Christ.  We 
have  hitherto  merely  affirmed  that,  in 
order  to  guard  against  mistake,  where 
mistake  would  be  fatal,  it  must  become 
the  Christian  to  be  always  inquiring  the 
way  to  Zion,  like  one  who  knows  that 
he  may  be  deceived,  even  when  to  all 
appearance  he  has  long  followed  the 
right  path.  But  we  will  now  suppose 
him  certified  as  to  the  direction  in  which 
he  is  proceeding,  certified  that  his  face 
is  towards  Zion,  and  nevertheless  busy- 
ing himself  with  inquiries  as  to  the 
way.  And  what  would  this  mark  ] 
What  should  we  have  to  learn  from  the 
representation  of  a  Christian  as  inquir- 
ing the  way  to  Zion,  though  assured 
that  he  had  been  long  proceeding  in 
that  way  1  ■ 

My  brethren,  Christianity  is  that  in 
which  no  man  can  be  too  advanced  to 
study  the  alphabet.  It  is  that  to  whose 
very  elements  the  greatest  proficient 
should  often  recur,  not  indeed  as  though 
he  wrere  to  be  always  a  beginner  : 
but  because  what  he  begins  with  he 
cannot  exhaust ;  and  because  what  he 
gathers  as  he  proceeds,  only  fits  him  the 
more  for  understanding  and  appreciating 
that  with  which  he  commenced.  The 
simple  and  fundamental  doctrines  of 
our  holy  religion, — the  doctrines  of  hu- 
25 


man  corruption,  of  the  renewing  power 
of  God's  Spirit,  of  the  incarnation,  of 
the  Eternal  Word,  and  of  the  atone- 
ment effected  by  a  Mediator, — these, 
which  may  be  said  to  shew  the  way  to 
Zion,  present  continually  new  material 
for  the  contemplation  and  instruction  of 
the  Christian.  There  is  a  sense  in  which 
there  is  no  getting  beyond  the  very  al- 
phabet of  Christianity  ;  that  alphabet 
will  always  be  beyond  us  ;  any  one  of 
its  letters  being  as  a  mighty  hieroglyphic 
which  the  prayerful  student  may  par- 
tially decipher,  but  the  most  accom- 
plished scholar  never  thoroughly  ex- 
pound. 

And  there  cannot  be  a  worse  symp- 
tom, whether  in  an  individual  or  in  a 
congregation,  than  that  of  distaste  for 
the  elementary  truths  and  facts  of  Chris- 
tianity. We  regard  with  great  anxiety 
those  professing  Christians,  whose  ap- 
petites must  be  stimulated  by  novelties 
and  varieties  in  religion,  and  to  whom  it 
is  not  always  a  feast,  always  like  "  good 
news  from  a  far  country,"  to  hear  of  the 
exceeding  love  of  God  in  giving  his 
dear  Son  as  a  propitiation  for  sin.  We 
are  not  indeed  unmindful  of  what  St. 
Paul  says  to  the  Hebrews,  whom  he 
exhorts,  that,  "  leaving  the  principles  of 
the  doctrine  of  Christ,"  they  should  go 
on  to  perfection  ;  and  we  fully  believe 
that  a  Christian  may  err  through  con- 
fining himself  to  the  elements,  in  place 
of  striving  to  comprehend  the  whole 
range  of  truth.  Whatsoever  God  has 
been  pleased  to  reveal,  should  be  made 
the  subject  of  study;  and  we  will  not 
desecrate  the  name  of  humility  by  giving 
it  to  that  temper  which  would  seal  up 
half  the  Bible,  as  too  obscure  to  be  read 
with  advantage,  or  too  perplexed  for  the 
generality  of  Christians.  It  is  evident- 
ly, howevei-,  only  the  resting  in  "  the 
principles  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ," 
which  is  condemned  by  St.  Paul  :  he 
would  have  us  go  on  to  perfection  ;  but 
but  not  so  as  to  forget  the  principles  : — 
who  ever  soared  higher  than  this  Apos- 
tle 1  and  yet  who  ever  lingered  more 
fondly  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  sys- 
tem, beholding  the  cross  with  the  earn- 
estness and  affection  of  one  who  felt 
it  to  be  the  centre  of  life  to  a  fallen  and 
helpless  world  1  We  are  to  leave  the 
principles,  so  as  to  be  on  the  advance  in 
the  search  after  truth  :  but  we  are  never 
so  to  leave  them  as  though  we  had  done 


194 


SIIKKIXU,   AFTER  FIXDIIVG. 


with  them,  and  had  no  further  need  to 
recur  to  their  study.  Indeed,  in  this 
sense,  it  is  iraposshle  to  leave  the  prin- 
ciples ;  for  the  heights  and  depths  of 
Christian  doctrine  are  but  the  first  ele- 
ments expanded  :  the  simple  truths  are 
the  germs  of  the  mysterious  :  and  it  is 
tin-  little  cloud  which  at  length  spreads, 
like  that  seen  by  the  Prophet's  servant, 
into  an  impenetrable  vast,  though  only 
that  it  may  refresh  and  fertilize  the  earth. 

We  may  therefore  justly  again  speak 
to  you  of  the  badness  of  the  symptom, 
when  a  Christian  grows  weary  of  the 
first  truths  of  Christianity,  nay,  when 
he  is  not  frequent  in  dwelling  on  those 
truths,  as  furnishing  instruction  which 
he  cannot  outstrip,  and  consolation  which 
he  cannot  exhaust.  Tell  me  not  of  a 
man  who  understands  all  mysteries,  and 
who  is  so  engaged  with  abstruse  and  lofti- 
er doctrines,  that  he  may  leave  to  young 
converts  the  introductory  facts  which  he 
has  long  ago  examined,  and  with  which, 
as  placed  at  the  entrance  to  the  heaven- 
ward path,  he  can  have  no  concern  when 
some  progress  has  been  made.  We 
dare  affirm  of  the  path,  that  it  is  not  so 
direct  that  what  we  leave  remains  actu- 
ally behind  us,  but  rather  so  winding 
that  what  we  leave  seems  frequently  be- 
fore us.  In  advancing,  we  apparently 
return  to  the  same  point  :  he  who  has 
taken  a  lofty  flight,  if  it  have  indeed 
been  through  a  region  of  Christian 
truth,  will  commonly  find  himself,  at  its 
close,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  At  least, 
if  he  return  from  the  flight,  and  feel, 
on  looking  at  the  cross,  as  though  it 
were  a  dull  and  common-place  object,  in 
comparison  of  what  he  had  beheld,  we 
may  be  sure  that  he  has  been  expatia- 
ting in  some  region  of  cold  and  barren 
speculation,  where  there  may  be  religion 
for  the  intellect,  but  none  for  the  heart. 

We  give  it,  therefore,  as  no  bad  cri- 
terion for  those  who  have  long  made 
profession  of  godliness, — have  we  de- 
light in  the  simple  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
or  do  we  find  no  pleasure  but  in  an  ab- 
struse and  argumentative  theology, 
where  the  understanding  is  tasked,  or 
the  reason  appealed  to,  the  imagina- 
tion dazzled]  What  preaching  con- 
tents us  1  Must  we  have  the  logical 
speaker,  who  leads  us  on,  by  a  series 
of  well-contrived  steps,  to  some  un- 
expected conclusion  ?  or  the  brilliant, 
who,  by  his  vivid  delineations,  can  charm 


us  into  the  belief  of  truths  which  we 
had  hitherto  overlooked  1  or  is  it  suffi- 
cient to  engage  our  attention  and  make 
us  all  alive  to  the  worth  of  the  ordi- 
nance of  preaching,  that  the  minister 
speaks,  simply  and  warmly,  on  the  ele- 
ments of  Christianity,  on  truths  with 
which  we  have  long  been  familiar,  which 
have  been  taught  us  from  infancy,  and 
which  are  little  more  than  the  inscrip- 
tions which  point  the  manslayer  to  the 
city  of  refuge  ]  It  will  be  thus  with 
those  who  are  pressing  "  towards  the 
mark  for  the  prize  of  their  high  calling 
in  Christ."  The  giant  in  Christ,  if  we 
may  vary  the  simile,  is  so  truly  the  babe 
in  Christ,  as  always  to  be  leaning  upon 
Him  for  support;  and  the  sounds  which 
were  sweet  to  him  in  the  first  days  of 
spiritual  life,  will  be  melodious  ever 
after ;  not  only  because  music  remem- 
bered as  heard  in  childhood  always  steals 
thrillingly  on  the  ear,  as  though  it  were 
a  voice  from  the  tomb,  but  because  the 
well-known  strain  breathes  to  him  of 
all  he  holds  precious,  and  falls  liquidly 
as  a  voice  from  the  firmament,  inspir- 
ing the  hope  which  is  "  full  of  immor- 
tality." 

By  this,  then,  amongst  other  tests,  let 
those  who  think  themselves  advanced  in 
Christianity  try  their  spiritual  condition. 
What  ear  have  they  for  simple  truths 
simply  delivered  1  In  their  private 
studies,  what  pleasure  have  they  in 
meditating  the  first  principles  of  the 
Gospel  1  do  they  find  those  first  princi- 
ples inexhausted,  inexhaustible  '{  or  is 
it  always  to  deeper  doctrines  that  they 
turn,  as  though  it  were  only  when  quite 
out  of  their  depth,  that  they  gain  a  rest- 
ing-place for  the  soul  ]  I  admire,  I 
greatly  admire,  the  picture  of  a  Chris- 
tian, as  furnished  by  the  prophetic 
sketch  of  the  Jews  in  our  text !  He  is 
a  man  who  is  never  weary  of  hearing 
of  the  way  to  Zion,  though  his  face  is 
towards  the  heavenly  city,  and  he  may 
perhaps  already  behold  its  battlements 
on  the  horizon.  I  know  not  how  far 
the  exiles  had  advanced  when  they 
might  first  be  described  by  the  predic- 
tion before  us.  But  there  is  nothing  to 
limit  the  prediction  to  one  point  rather 
than  to  another  of  the  journey.  For 
anything  we  know,  those  blue  hills  in 
the  distance  maybe  the  mountains  which 
are  "  round  about  Jerusalem,"  and  the 
waters    which    they   are    crossing    may 


SEEKING,   AFTER  FINDING 


195 


have  flowed  by  its  ruined  walls ;  and 
yet,  as  though  they  had  but  just  quit- 
ted Babylon,  the  wanderers  are  asking 
the  way,  loving  to  be  told  what  they 
know,  and  delighting  to  hear,  though 
not  needing  to  be  taught. 

It  is  thus  with  the  believer.  What 
was  glad  news  to  him  at  the  beginning, 
is  glad  news  to  him  to  the  end  :  the  pre- 
scribed way  to  safety,  through  repent- 
ance and  faith,  cannot  be  exhibited  with- 
out fixing  his  attention,  exciting  his 
gratitude,  and  animating  his  hope.  Let 
him  be  even  on  the  border  of  the  land, 
let  him  be  even  on  the  brink  of  the  Jor- 
dan, and  nothing  will  accord  better  with 
his  feelings,  nothing  will  more  minister 
to  his  peace,  than  discourse,  not  on  the 
New  Jerusalem  itself,  but  on  the  path 
by  which  it  must  be  reached.  The  min- 
ister stands  by  a  dying  Christian,  that, 
in  the  hour  of  dissolution,  he  may  whis- 
per words  of  comfort.  And  what  hath 
he  spoken  of,  that  there  is  so  bright  a 
smile  on  the  cheek  of  the  sufferer,  that 
the  sunken  eye  is  suddenly  lit  up  as 
though  with  fire  from  above  ?  Surely, 
say  the  bystanders,  he  hath  spoken  of 
the  diadem,  and  the  white  robe,  and  the 
golden  harp,  of  the  palaces  of  immortal- 
ity, and  of  the  raptures  of  those  who  have 
cast  off  the  burden  of  the  flesh.  Ah,  no  ! 
— he  hath  spoken  as  he  would  have 
done  to  the  young  inquirer  in  religion. 
He  hath  spoken  of  the  Divine  love  in 
finding  a  ransom  :  he  hath  spoken  of 
the  blood  of  Christ  as  cleansing  from 
all  sin  :  he  hath  spoken  of  the  interces- 
sion of  Christ  as  securing  all  blessing. 
And  if  surprise  be  expressed  that  such 
elementary  discourse  should  be  cheer- 
ing to  a  man  as  he  almost  entered  hea- 
ven, the  minister  will  have  only  to  re- 
ply, that  the  true  believer  is  one,  who, 
to  the  very  end,  i-esembles  the  Jews  as 
they  journeyed  from  Babylon  to  Canaan, 
and  who  asked  "  the  way  to  Zion,  with 
their  fares  thitherward." 

But  there  is  yet  one  more  particular 
on  which  we  wish  to  insist;  not  that  we 
think  that  we  shall  then  have  exhausted 
the  text ;  but  that  what  we  have  still  to 
advance  is  of  so  practical  a  character, 
that  we  could  not  be  justified  in  its 
omission.  We  would  direct  your  atten- 
tion to  what  we  may  call  the  honesty  of 
purpose  displayed  by  the  Jews,  and 
held  it  up  for  imitation  to  all  who  pro- 
fess to  be  seeking-  the  kingdom  of  God. 


The  Jew  had  his  face  turned  towards 
Zion,  whilst  he  was  inquiring  the  road  : 
if  he  did  not  know  the  precise  path,  he 
knew  the  direction  in  which  the  city  lay  ; 
and  he  was  looking  in  the  direction, 
when  he  asked  what  way  he  should 
take.  He  might  have  been  looking  in 
another  direction  :  his  eye  might  have 
been  to  the  city  which  he  had  to  quit, 
and  not  to  that  to  which  he  had  to  go  ; 
and  then  there  would  have  been  good 
reason  to  suspect  that  he  preferred  the 
remaining  in  Babylon,  though  he  pro- 
fessed a  desire  to  remove  to  Jerusalem. 
But  as  his  face  was  already  Zionwards, 
he  gave  evidence  of  being  in  earnest : 
he  had  done  as  much  as  he  could  do 
with  his  amount  of  information,  and 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  he  was 
sincere  in  his  inquiry  for  more. 

We  have  a  right  to  require  and  ex- 
pect a  similar  conduct  from  all  those  who 
ask  of  us  the  way  to  heaven.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  asking  the  way  to  Zion 
with  the  face  towards  Babylon  ;  and  if 
there  be  this  dissimulation — for  no  mild- 
er word  will  express  the  precise  truth — 
in  vain  will  the  preacher  point  out  the 
road,  and  urge  the  traveller  to  decision 
and  dispatch.  We  fear  it  to  be  true  of 
numbers  amongst  you,  that  they  ask  the 
way  to  heaven,  but  keep  looking  towards 
the  world.  What  interpretation  are 
we  to  put  upon  your  appearance  Sab- 
bath after  Sabbath  in  the  sanctuary  of 
God,  if  not  that  it  professes  a  wish  for 
instruction,  a  desire  to  be  informed  how, 
as  immortal  creatures,  you  may  escape 
lasting  misery,  and  secure  lasting  hap- 
piness ]  We  cannot,  in  the  judg- 
ment of  charity,  put  a  less  favorable 
construction  on  your  coming  up  to 
God's  house  ;  we  cannot  regard  it  as 
a  mere  compliance  with  custom,  or 
as  a  mode  of  passing  away  time,  which 
might  otherwise  hang  heavy  on  your 
hands.  Every  man  who  frequents  the 
public  ordinances  of  the  Church  is 
certainly  to  be  considered  as  thereby, 
if  by  nothing  else,  asking  of  those 
whom  God  hath  set  as  guides  to  the 
wandering,  by  what  way  he  may  reach 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

But  it  is  in  vain  that  the  answer  is 
continually  ffiven,  and  that,  on  successive 
opportunities,  the  minister  of  Christ 
holds  forth  the  chart,  and  delineates  the 
path.  And  the  great  reason  of  this  is, 
that  there  is  no  honesty  of  purpose  in  the 


196 


SEEKING,  AFTER  FINDING. 


inquirer,  no  real  intention  of  acting  on 
the  information  which  he  professes  to 
want.  His  face  is  towards  the  world  at 
the  very  moment  that,  with  all  the  show 
of  a  traveller  towards  Zion,  he  is  making 
inquiries  as  to  a  path  and  conveyance. 
And  we  would  have  you  distinctly  un- 
derstand, that  there  is  a  certain  part 
which  the  unconverted  man  has  to  per- 
form if  he  hope  for  conversion  ;  and  that 
whilst  this  is  undone,  he  has  no  right  to 
look  for  the  visitations  of  grace.  It  may 
not  be  in  his  power  to  find  for  himself 
the  pathway  of  life ;  still  less  to  take  a 
step  on  that  pathway  when  found.  But 
he  may  ascertain  the  direction  in  which 
Zion  lies,  and  he  may  be  looking  in  that 
direction,  if  not  advancing.  It  is  quite 
idle  to  say  that  he  knows  not  the  direc-  l 
tion  :  he  knows  it  to  be  the  exact  oppo-  | 
site  to  that  in  which  he  naturally  looks  ; 
to  turn  his  eyes  from  the  world  is,  as 
he  must  be  thoroughly  aware,  to  turn 
them  towards  them. 

And  we  expect  this  from  every  one 
of  you  who,  in  any  shape,  puts  the  in- 
quiry, "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ]  " 
We  expect  him  to  be  an  imitator  of  the 
Jews  who,  if  they  asked  the  way  to 
Zion,  asked  it  with  "  their  faces  thither- 
ward." What  mean  you  by  coming  to 
God's  house,  not  merely  with  your  af- 
fections set  on  earthly  things,  but  with- 
out an  effort  to  disengage  them?  with 
no  intention  of  entering  on  a  course  of 
labor  and  self-denial,  if  such  should  be 
prescribed  1  but  rather  with  the  secret 
determination  of  persevering  a  while 
longer  in  courses  which  you  know  to  be 
wrong  ?  What  mean  you  by  this  hy- 
pocrisy, this  double  dealing  1  What 
mean  you  by  this  imitation  of  Lot's 
wife,  who,  if  she  had  her  foot  towards 
Zoar,  had  her  face  towards  Sodom  1 
Show  that  you  are  in  earnest  by  the  di- 
rection in  which  you  look  ;  otherwise  it 
is  in  vain  to  ask  guidance  as  to  the  way 
in  which  to  walk.  The  man  who  is  in 
earnest  will  set  himself  at  once  to  the 
turning  his  back  on  what  conscience 
tells  him  to  be  wrong,  or  the  Bible  de- 
clares to  be  offensive  to  God.  He  will 
make  it  his  business  to  forsake  pursuits 
or  associates,  however  agreeable,  which 
draw  him  to  the  visible  world,  and  to 
enter  upon  duties  whose  distinct  ten- 
dency is  towards  the  invisible.  And 
this,  at  the  least,  is  the  setting  his  face 
heavenwards,  a  preliminary,  as  we  are 


bold  to  affirm,  to  his  being  enabled  to 
direct  his  course  heavenwards. 

For  it  is  an  indisputable  rule  in  the 
dealings  of  God,  to  give  more  grace  in 
proportion  as  that  already  given  is  im- 
proved. He  hath  given  strength  to  turn 
the  eye — turn  it,  or  never  look  for 
strength  to  move  the  foot.  And  if  vou 
would  know  whether  it  -he  an  indifferent 
thing,  that  you  continue  asking  the  way 
to  heaven  with  your  face  towards  the 
world,  you  have  only  to  refer  to  the 
writings  of  Ezekiel,  where  God  Him- 
self expresses  his  sense  of  the  duplicity. 
"  Every  one  of  the  house  of  Israel, 
which  separateth  himself  from  me,  and 
setteth  up  his  idols  in  his  heart,  and  put- 
teth  the  stumbling-block  of  his  iniquity 
before  his  face,  and  cometh  to  a  prophet 
to  inquire  of  him  concerning  me,  I  the 
Lord  will  answer  him  by  myself,  and  I 
will  set  my  face  against  that  man,  and 
will  make  him  a  sign  and  a  proverb." 
The  case  here  supposed  is  precisely 
that  which  we  are  forced  to  regard  as 
frequent  amongst  ourselves,  the  case  of 
a  man  who,  with  his  heart  full  of  the 
idols  of  the  world,  with  the  stumbling- 
block  of  his  iniquity  put  "  before  his 
face," — so  far  is  he  from  any  effort  to 
put  it  behind  his  back, — comes  to  in- 
quire of  the  prophet  concerning  God,  as 
though  he  wished  to  know  how  his  favor 
might  be  gained.  And  God  takes  upon 
Himself  the  giving  him  his  answer,  an 
answer  expressive  of  singular  indigna 
tion,  and  more  than  common  vengeance 
That  man  is  to  be  made  "  a  sign  and  a 
proverb,"  a  sign,  as  was  the  wife  of 
Lot,  to  whom  we  have  already  referred, 
who  was  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt,  that 
the  wavering  and  hypocritical  of  all 
after-ages  might  be  admonished  and 
warned. 

We  can,  therefore,  but  urge  on  you 
the  taking  heed  how  you  come  to  in« 
quire  of  the  prophet,  with  no  sincere 
purpose  of  acting  on  his  directions.  See 
to  it  that  ye  turn  your  face  towards 
heaven  ;  for  this  is  in  the  power  of  all 
of  you,  through  those  workings  of  God's 
Spirit,  of  which  every  breast  is  the 
scene.  Ye  cannot  turn  the  heart,  but 
ye  can  turn  the  face.  Ye  can  turn 
the  back  to  the  world,  which  is  to  turn 
the  face  towards  heaven  ;  and  it  is  God's 
ordinary  course  to  give  the  new  heart 
to  those  who  prove  that  they  desire  it, 
by  looking  away  from  all  which  the  old 


THE  BIRDS  NEST. 


197 


heart  is  prone  to  love  and  prefer.  Then 
inquire  the  way  to  heaven  ;  then,  when 
your  sincerity  is  proved,  and  you  have 
shown,  hy  your  striving  to  obey  God  up 
to  the  measure  of  your  knowledge  and 
ability,  that  you  would  improve  a  great- 
er   measure    if    mercifully    vouchsafed. 


Thus  will  you  be  doing  as  did  the  chil- 
dren of  Judah  :  and  you  shall  find  that, 
directed  as  they  were  into  the  right, 
though  perhaps  a  rough  path,  you  shall 
reach  at  length  the  land  which  God  pro- 
mised to  your  fathers,  and  sit  down  de 
lightedly  in  the  long-lost  inheritance. 


SERMON  VIII 


THE  BIRD'S  NEST. 


"  If  a  bird's  nest  chance  to  be  before  thee  in  the  way  in  any  tree,  or  on  the  ground,  whether  they  be  young  ones,  or 
eggs,  and  the  dam  sitting  upon  the  young,  or  upon  the  eggs,  thou  shalt  not  take  the  dam  with  the  young:  but  thou 
shalt  in  any  wise  let  the  dam  go,  and  take  the  young  to  thee  ;  that  it  may  be  well  with  thee,  and  that  thou  mayest 
prolong  thy  days." — Deuteronomy  xxii.  6,  7. 


The  question  of  St.  Paul,  after  quot- 
ing a  precept  from  the  law  as  to  not 
muzzling  the  ox  when  it  treadeth  out 
the  corn,  will  here  naturally  recur  to 
your  minds,  "  Doth  God  take  care  for 
oxen  ]  "  On  hearing  our  text,  almost 
every  one  will  be  disposed  to  exclaim, 
"  Doth  God  take  care  for  birds  1  "  Not 
that  the  question  is  meant  to  convey  any 
doubt  as  to  the  Divine  care  for  the  infe- 
rior creation.  We  know  that  God 
"  feedeth  the  young  ravens  that  call  up- 
on him,"  and  that,  though  five  sparrows 
are  sold  for  two  farthings,  "  not  one  of 
them  is  forgotten  before  God."  But 
when  St.  Paul  proposes  his  question  in 
regard  of  oxen,  it  is  not  to  insinuate  that 
it  was  beneath  God  to  take  care  of  oxen, 
or  that  the  precept,  which  he  quotes, 
was  not  designed  to  have  a  literal  appli- 
cation. What  he  wishes  to  have  under- 
stood, is  simply,  that  the  law  had  other 
and  higher  ends  in  view,  besides  the 
mere  securing  for  the  laboring  ox  a 
share  in  the  produce  of  his  labors.  He 
instructs  us  that  such  a  precept  was 
meant  to  have  a  figurative,  or  symboli- 
cal, as  well  as  a  literal  interpretation ; 
that,  whilst,  in  obedience  to  it,  the  ox 


was  not  to  be  muzzled  when  treading 
out  the  corn,  in  further  obedience,  a  due 
maintenance  was  to  be  afforded  to  the 
preachers  of  the  Gospel.  "  Doth  God 
take  care  for  oxen  ]  or  saith  he  it  alto- 
gether for  our  sakes]  For  our  sakes  no 
doubt  this  is  written:  that  he  that  plow- 
eth  should  plow  in  hope,  and  that  he 
that  thresheth  in  hope  should  be  partak- 
er of  his  hope." 

In  thus  amplifying  a  precept  of  the 
law,  St.  Paul  may  be  said  to  have  fur- 
nished a  general  rule  as  to  the  mode  in 
which  similar  precepts  should  be  inter- 
preted and  applied.  We  are  not  to  re- 
gard them  as  having  to  do  merely  with 
the  specific  case  to  which  the  words  ad- 
dress themselves  :  we  are  rather  to 
search  for  the  principle  involved  in  the 
law,  or  on  which  the  law  is  founded ;  to 
examine  in  what  other  cases  the  same 
principle  will  hold  good ;  and  to  con- 
clude, that,  in  every  such  case,  the  law 
was  intended  to  be  equally  binding. 

It  is  thus  that  we  shall  endeavor  to 
proceed  with  that  very  peculiar  law 
which  we  have  taken  as  our  present 
subject  of  discourse.  We  are  very  much 
struck  with  this  law,  not  because  it  has 


198 


THE  BIRDS  NEST. 


to  do  with  a  matter  apparently  trifling, 
and  unworthy  to  be  the  object  of*  Divine 
legislation,  but  because  there  is  annexed 
to  it  the  same  promise  as  to  command- 
ments of  the  highest  import  and  require- 
ment. For  you  will  observe  that  length 
of  days,  the  very  blessing  which  was 
to  flow  from  giving  to  parents  the  honor 
prescribed  by  the  Tilth  commandment,  is 
held  forth  as  a  recompense  to  obedience 
in  this  matter  of  a  bird  and  her  nest. 
"  That  it  may  be  well  with  thee,  and 
that  thou  mayest  prolong  thy  days." 
The  commandment  may  have  to  do  with 
a  trivial  thing ;  but  it  is  evident  enough 
that  it  cannot  be  a  trivial  commandment : 
indeed,  no  commandment  can  be  which 
proceeds  from  God,  because  what  is  in- 
different, or  unimportant,  so  long  as  it 
is  not  the  subject  of  a  command,  changes 
its  whole  character  the  moment  that  it  is. 
But,  apart  from  this  general  consider- 
ation, on  which  we  may  find  occasion 
hereafter  to  insist,  the  mere  circumstance 
that  the  prolongation  of  life  is  set  forth 
as  the  result  of  obedience,  should  satisfy 
you  that  the  precept  before  us  is  not  to 
be  passed  over  as  requiring  little  notice, 
but  should  rather  be  studied  as  fraught 
with  instruction,  conveying,  like  that  ex- 
pounded by  St.  Paul,  figurative  lessons 
of  the  very  widest  application.  Dis- 
miss, then,  the  thought  which,  not  un- 
naturally, may  have  been  excited  by  the 
first  announcement  of  the  text,  the 
thought  of  there  being  almost  something 
to  provoke  a  smile  in  a  bird's  nest  giv- 
ing subject  for  a  sermon.  Let  us  en- 
deavor to  ascertain  on  what  principles 
the  precept  before  us  is  founded,  what 
dispositions  it  inculcates  and  cherishes  ; 
and  we  shall  find  that  there  is  no  cause 
for  surprise,  in  the  annexment  of  a  pro- 
mise of  long  life  to  obedience  to  the  di- 
rection, "If  a  bird's  nest  chance  to  be 
before  thee  in  the  way  in  any  tree,  or 
on  the  ground,  thou  shalt  not  take  the 
dam  with  the  young." 

Now  you  will  see  at  once,  that,  had 
the  precept  been  of  a  more  stringent 
character,  it  might,  in  some  sense,  have 
been  more  easily  vindicated  and  explain- 
ed. Had  it  forbidden  altogether  the 
meddling  with  the  nest,  had  it  required 
that  not  only  should  the  mother-bird  be 
let  go,  but  that  neither  the  young  birds, 
nor  the  eggs,  should  be  taken,  it  would 
at  once  have  been  said  that  God  was 
graciously  protecting  the  inferior  crea- 


tion, and  forbidding  man  to  act  towards 
them  with  any  kind  of  cruelty.  But  the 
precept  permits  the  taking  the  nest  :  it 
does  not  even  hint  that  it  might  be  bet- 
ter to  let  the  nest  alone  :  it  simply  con 
fines  itself  to  protecting  the  parent-bird, 
and  thus  allows,  if  it  does  not  actually 
direct,  what  may  be  thought  an  inhuman 
thing,  the  carrying  off  the  young  to  the 
manifest  disappointment  and  pain  of 
the  mother. 

It  should  not  however  be  unobserved, 
that  the  precept  does  not  touch.the  case 
in  which  there  is  an  actual  looking  foi 
the  nest.  It  is  not  a  direction  as  to 
what  should  be  done,  if  a  nest  were 
found  after  diligent  search  ;  but  only  as 
to  what  should  be  done,  if  a  nest  were 
found  by  mere  chance  or  accident.  You 
will  observe  how  the  precept  is  intro- 
duced, "  If  a  bird's  nest  chance  to  be 
before  thee  in  the  way  in  any  tree,  or 
on  the  ground."  The  nest  was  to  be  in 
some  exposed  situation,  where  it  could 
not  well  be  overlooked  ;  and  this  cir- 
cumstance may  have  had  to  do  with  the 
construction  of  the  commandment. — 
Without  pretending  to  argue  that  God 
would  have  forbidden  the  searching  foi 
the  nest,  it  is  highly  probable  that  there 
was  something  significant  in  this  direc- 
tion as  to  taking  the  nest,  in  the  parti 
cular  case  when  that  nest  had  been  un- 
wisely placed.  We  are  sure,  from  va- 
rious testimonies  of  Scripture,  that  God 
has  designed  to  instruct  us  in  and  through 
the  inferior  creation,  the  birds  of  the  air, 
and  the  beasts  of  the  field,  being  often 
appealed  to  when  men  have  to  be  taught 
and  admonished.  And  we  know  not, 
therefore,  that  there  can  be  any  thing 
far-fetched  in  supposing,  that,  by  sanc- 
tioning a  sort  of  injury  to  the  bird,  which 
had  built  its  nest  in  an  insecure  place, 
God  meant  to  teach  us,  that,  if  we  will 
not  take  due  precautions  for  our  own 
safety,  we  are  not  to  expect  the  shield 
of  his  protection.  There  would  hardly 
have  been  such  emphasis  laid  on  the 
nest's  "  chancing  to  be  in  the  way,"  if 
it  had  not  been  designed  that  we  should 
observe  how  unwisely  the  nest  had  been 
placed,  and  draw  some  inference  as  to 
the  need  of  prudence  on  our  own  part, 
if  we  hope  to  experience  the  guardian- 
ship of  God. 

This,  however,  only  goes  to  the  ex- 
plaining why  there  was  any  permission 
for    taking  the  nest,  when  you    might 


THE   r.IRD  S  NEST. 


199 


rather  have  expected,  that,  had  God 
legislated  on  such  a  matter  at  all,  it 
would  have  been  for  the  protection  oftlie 
young  birds  as  well  as  ofthe  old.  But 
now,  as  to  the  permission  itself,  we  may 
throw  together  some  general  considera- 
tions which  go  to  the  showing  that  there 
was  great  significance  in  the  allowing 
that  only  the  young  should  be  taken, 
whilst  the  old  were  let  go.  Were  not 
the  Israelites  hereby  taught  to  be  mode- 
rate in  their  desires'"?  The  first  impulse 
would  be  to  seize  the  old  bird  with  the 
young,  and  thus  secure  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. But  this  is  nothing  better  than 
the  impulse  of  covetousness  ;  and  it  was 
like  giving  a  lesson  against  covetousness, 
a  lesson  so  constructed  as  to  be  capable 
of  being  reproduced  in  great  variety  of 
circumstances,  when  the  finder  of  a 
prize,  who  might,  fancy  himself  at  liberty 
to  appropriate  the  whole,  was  required 
to  content  himself  with  a  part.  And, 
over  and  above  the  lesson  against  covet- 
ousness, there  was  also  in  the  precept  a 
lesson  against  recklessness  or  waste. 
For  to  have  taken  possession  ofthe  old 
bird  together  with  the  young,  would 
have  been  to  have  destroyed,  in  that 
ease,  the  further  multiplication  of  the 
kind  :  in  certain  states  of  the  animal 
Creation,  it  would  have  been  almost  tan- 
tamount to  the  extinguishing  a  species; 
and  in  every  state  it  was  doing  as  much 
as,  at  the  moment,  could  be  done  towards 
preventing  a  species  from  increasing  on 
the  earth. 

The  precept  set  itself  against  this  im- 
provident and  wasteful  appropriation  of 
God's  creatures.  It  required  man,  whilst 
supplying  his  present  wants,  to  have  due 
regard  to  his  future  ;  yea,  and  to  the 
wants  of  others,  as  well  as  to  his  own  : 
it  virtually  said  to  him,  Take  what  is 
enough  for  thee  to-day,  in  taking  the 
nest  ;  but  the  old  bird  may  build  another 
nest,  which  may  be  useful  to  another, 
or  to  thyself  another  day;  therefore, 
*f  thou  shalt  in  any  wise  let  the  dam  go." 
We  do  not  of  course  mean  that  such  a 
lesson  was  to  hold  good  merely  in  the 
particular  instance.  On  the  contrary, 
there  is  a  general  principle  thus  shown 
to  be  involved  in  the  precept ;  and  we 
are  supposing  that  the  precept  was  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  of  embodying 
and  enforcing  such  principles.  There 
is  a  reckless  disposition  in  many,  a  pro- 
fuse expenditure  of  whatsoever  they  can 


lay  hands  on,  little  regard  being  had  to 
future  wants,  and  the  very  means  of 
supplying  them  being  often  improvi- 
dently  and  unnecessarily  anticipated. 
Does  not  the  precept  before  us  distinctly 
condemn  all  such  prodigality,  extrava- 
gance, and  want  of  due  forethought  'I 
Vou  may  apply  the  principle  to  a  hun- 
dred cases.  Whenever  men  live  upon 
the  capital,  when  the  interest  would 
suffice;  whenever  they  recklessly  con- 
sume all  their  earnings,  though  those 
earnings  might  enable  them  to  lay  some- 
thing by;  when,  so  long  as,  by  eager 
grasping,  they  can  secure  what  they  like 
for  themselves,  they  are  utterly  indiffer- 
ent as  to  interfering  with  the  supplies 
and  enjoyments  of  others — in  every  such 
case,  they  are  violating  the  precept  be- 
fore us  ;  they  are  taking  the  old  bird 
with  the  young  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand, 
by  treating  as  a  sin  any  thing  like  waste- 
fulness, by  a  prudent  management  of 
the  gifts  and  mercies  of  God,  by  such 
a  wise  husbandry  of  resources  as  shall 
prove  a  consciousness  that  the  Di- 
vine liberality  in  place  of  sanctioning 
extravagance,  should  be  a  motive  to 
economy,  they  may  be  said  to  be  vir- 
tually obeying  the  precept ;  they  are 
taking  the  young,  but  letting  the  dam 
go. 

And  though  these  are  but  general 
considerations,  which  can  hardly  be  said 
to  carry  you  into  the  interior  of  the 
commandment,  so  as  to  show  you  why 
long  life  should  be  annexed  to  obedience, 
they  may  yet  suffice  to  divest  that  com- 
mandment of  all  the  air  of  trivial  legis- 
lation with  which  you  might  be  ready, 
on  its  first  announcement,  to  consider  it 
invested.  True,  it  is  only  about  a  bird's 
nest  that  the  ever-living  God  is  here  de- 
livering a  law.  But  if  there  be  couched 
in  that  law  denunciations  alike  of  the 
covetous  and  the  spendthrift,  so  that 
every  one,  who  studied  its  spirit,  would 
find  himself  directed  to  a  right  use  of 
God's  creatures,  surely  enough  has  al- 
ready been  said  to  do  away  all  surprise 
at  finding  in  the  Jewish  code  such  a  di- 
rection as  this,  "  If  a  bird's  nest  chance 
to  be  before  thee  in  the  way,  thou  shalt 
in  any  wise  take  to  thee  the  young,  and 
let  the  dam  go." 

But  now  let  us  look  more  narrowly 
into  the  reasons  of  the  precept  :  we 
shall  probably  find,  if  we  examine  the 
peculiarities  of  the  case,  that  the  com- 


200 


THE  BIRD  S  NEST. 


mandment  before  us  lias  a  yet  more  di- 
rect and  extensive  application.  It  could 
only  be,  you  will  observe,  the  attach- 
ment of*  the  mother-bird  to  its  young-, 
which,  for  the  most  part,  would  put  it  in 
the  power  of  the  finder  of  the  nest  to  take 
both  together.  If  the  mother-bird  cared 
only  for  her  own  safety,  if  she  were  indif- 
ferent to  her  offspring,  she  would  take 
flight  in  any  possible  danger,  and  leave 
the  inmates  of  the  nest  a  prey  to  any 
enemy.  But  her  powerful  affection  to- 
wards her  defenceless  little  ones  keeps 
her  close  to  them,  makes  her  hover 
about  them  when  threatened  with  dan- 
ger, and  even  urges  her  to  resist  an  as- 
sailant, whom,  under  any  other  circum- 
stances, she  would  have  fled  from  pre- 
cipitately. So  that,  except  in  some  rare 
instances,  it  is  nothing  but  parental 
affection  which  would  put  it  in 
man's  power  to  take  the  old  with  the 
young  :  the  young  cannot  make  their 
escape,  but  the  mother-bird  might ; 
and  the  mother-bird  would,  if  she  were 
not  the  mother-bird,  and  moved  by  the 
strongest  instinct  to  stay  with  her 
brood. 

And  when  you  bring  this  circumstance 
into  the  account,  you  can  hardly  doubt 
that  one  great  reason  why  God  protect- 
ed the  mother-bird  by  an  express  com- 
mandment, was,  that  He  might  point 
out  the  excellence  of  parental  affection, 
and  teach  us  that  we  were  not  to  take 
advantage  of  such  an  affection,  in  order  to 
any  injury  to  the  parties  who  displayed 
it.  He  would  not  have  the  mother-bird 
injured,  when  it  was  only  her  affection 
as  a  mother  which  gave  the  opportunity 
of  injuring  her.  Under  other  circum- 
stances, this  mother-bird  might  be  taken  ; 
there  was  no  law  against  that  ;  but 
whensoever  it  was  her  attachment  to 
her  young  which  exposed  her  to  the 
being  taken,  then  God  interposed  with 
a  distinet  prohibition,  and  commanded 
that  she  should  not  be  taken.  Surely  it 
may  justly  be  said  that  God  hereby 
threw  a  kind  of  sacredness  around  pa- 
rental affection,  and  delivered  moreover 
a  solemn  injunction  against  our  ever 
making  use  of  the  power,  which  such 
an  affection  may  give  us,  to  work  mis- 
chief to  the  party  by  whom  it  is  display- 
ed. This  is  one  of  the  most  important 
of  the  points  of  view  under  which  the 
text  can  be  considered  ;  and  we  shall 
strive,  by  some  general  illustrations,  to 


put  you  well  in  posssesion  of  the  pre- 
cise facts  of  the  case. 

You  must  be  all  quite  aware,  that  the 
affection  which  one  party  bears  to  ano- 
ther, may  be  taken  advantage  of,  and 
that,  too,  to  his  manifest  detriment.  For 
example,  circumstances  place  the  child 
of  another  in  your  power ;  you  are 
about  to  oppress  or  ilbuse  that  child  : 
the  parent  entreats  :  you  agree  to  re- 
lease the  child,  but  only  on  conditions 
with  which  the  parent  would  never  have 
complied,  had  it  not  been  for  the  strong 
pleadings  of  natural  affection — what  do 
you  do  in  such  a  case  but  make  use  of  a 
power,  derived  solely  from  the  parent's 
love,  to  effect  the  parent's  injury  ?  you 
seize,  so  to  speak,  the  mother-bird,  when 
it  is  only  her  being  the  mother-bird  which 
has  given  you  the  opportunity  of  seizure. 

This  is  a  precise  case  in  point  •  but 
you  may  say  that  it  is  one  only  of  imagi- 
nary occurrence,  and  not  at  all  likely. 
We  admit  that.  But  what  we  want  is, 
that  you  should  get  hold  of  the  princi- 
ple involved  in  the  text,  and  you  will 
then  quickly  see  how  it  works  in  great 
variety  of  cases.  And  you  get  hold  of 
the  principle  by  observing  such  a  case 
as  has  just  been  supposed.  There  the 
opportunity  of  injuring  a  parent  is  fur- 
nished through  that  parent's  affection 
for  a  child ;  and  the  precept  before  us 
is  violated,  inasmuch  as  the  affection,  in 
place  of  serving  as  a  shield  to  the  pa- 
rent, is  taken  advantage  of  for  the  doing 
him  a  mischief. 

But  evidently  the  involved  principle 
is  of  very  wide  application.  A  parent 
may  take  improper  advantage  of  a 
child's  love,  a  child  of  a  parent's.  A 
parent  may  work  on  the  affections  of  a 
child,  urging  the  child,  by  the  love 
which  he  bears  to  a  father  or  mother,  to 
do  something  wrong,  something  against 
which  conscience  remonstrates  :  this  is 
a  case  in  point ;  this  is  a  case  in  which 
improper  advantage  is  taken  of  affection, 
or  injurious  use  is  made  of  a  power, 
which,  as  in  the  case  of  the  bird  and 
her  young,  nothing  but  strong  affection 
has  originated.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
the  child  is  of  a  serious  and  religious 
turn  of  mind,  averse  from  scenes  of 
frivolity  and  dissipation,  and  the  pa- 
rent wishes  to  take  the  child  into  such 
scenes,  and  makes  the  child's  accom- 
panying him  a  test  of  filial  attach- 
ment ;  why,  that  parent  is  working  the 


THE  BIRD  S  NEST. 


201 


child's  injury  through  the  child's  affec- 
tion ;  the  very  thing  which  is  virtually 
forbidden  by  the  precept  before  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  child  may  make 
an  improper  use  of  a  parent's  affection. 
Wishing  for  something  which  the  pa- 
rent, as  he  knows,  disapproves  and 
thinks  wrong,  some  gratification,  indul- 
gence, amusement,  he  may  work  upon 
the  parent's  love  ;  he  may  appeal  to  that 
love,  calculating  that  it  will  not  be  able 
to  resist  his  importunity.  This  is  the 
same  thing  again  :  here  a  wrong  is  at- 
tempted towards  the  parent,  (for  a  wrong 
is  done  by  an  inducement  to  do  wrong,) 
and  it  is  only  the  affection  of  the  parent 
which  gives  the  opportunity  of  making 
the  attempt. 

Or,  to  pass  out  of  the  particular  case  of 
parents  and  children,  all  the  attachments 
which  exist  in  life,  and  bind  together 
the  various  members  of  society,  may  be 
taken  advantage  of  for  some  injurious 
purpose,  inasmuch  as  they  will  open  a 
door  of  assault  where  otherwise  the 
party  would  be  quite  beyond  reach. 
The  husband  may  use  the  influence 
given  him  by  the  affection  of  the  wife, 
to  induce  her  to  comply  with  his  wishes 
in  things  which  she  feels,  or  suspects  to 
be  wrong.  The  wife  may  make  pre- 
cisely the  same  use  of  the  affection  of 
her  husband  :  she  may  work  upon  him 
through  that  affection;  endeavoring  to 
persuade  him  into  courses  from  which 
he  is  repugnant,  and  which,  had  it  not 
been  for  his  affection,  she  would  have 
had  no  opportunity,  or  at  least  no  likeli- 
hood, of  prevailing  on  him  to  adopt. 

It  is  exactly  the  s*ame  amongst  brothers 
and  sisters,  amongst  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances. Any  one  relation  may  take  ad- 
vantage of  another,  and  work,  through 
that  affection,  the  injury  of  the  party  by 
whom  it  is  entertained.  The  parent 
bird,  clinging  to  the  nest,  is  but  an  ex- 
ample how  binding  the  natural  affections 
may  be,  and  how  these  affections  may 
expose  to  dangers  which,  but  for  them, 
would  never  be  incurred.  And  the  ex- 
press direction  to  let  go  the  parent  bird, 
has  only  to  be  expanded  by  expanding 
the  principle  which  it  palpably  involves, 
and  you  have  a  general  charge  as  to 
carefulness  in  using  the  power  which  is 
derived  to  you  from  the  affections  of 
others.  God  endowed  us  with  these 
affections,  with  the  gracious  purpose  of 
smoothing  and  sweetening  life,  and  of 


furnishing  an  instrumentality  through 
which  Himself  might  be  appreciated, 
and  apprehended  as  our  chief  good. 
And  it  is  a  mighty  power,  for  injuring, 
or  for  benefiting,  which  is  conferred  by 
these  affections.  You  can  hardly  over- 
rate the  influence  which,  in  the  several 
relations  of  life,  is  possessed  by  those 
who  are  the  objects  of  these  affections, 
an  influence  which  would  wholly  disap- 
pear, were  the  affections  withdrawn. 
And  God  would  have  us  shun,  with  the 
greatest  possible  solicitude,  the  making 
an  ungenerous  use  of  this  influence, 
turning  it  to  the  injury  of  the  party 
whose  affection  has  created  it.  Parents 
are  to  be  specially  careful  what  advan- 
tage they  take  of  filial  love,  and  children, 
what  advantage  they  take  of  parental. 
Each  must  shun,  as  they  would  the 
desecration  of  what  is  holy,  and  the  per- 
petrating what  is  base,  the  working  on 
the  other,  against  the  dictates  of  that 
other's  conscience,  through  the  medium 
of  the  affections.  If  the  mother-bird 
is  to  be  taken,  at  least  let  it  not  be  whilst 
sitting  on  the  nest.  It  is  bad  enough  to 
bring  a  friend,  or  relation,  into  moral 
danger,  to  make  him  the  captive  of  sin  : 
it  is  worse,  it  is  like  what  is  elsewhere 
denounced  in  Scripture,  the  seething  a 
kid  in  its  mother's  milk,  to  use  his  at- 
tachment to  accelerate  his  ruin. 

Consider  then,  all  of  you,  whatever 
the  special  ties  which  associate  you  with 
others,  that  you  commit  a  signal  sin,  a 
sin  signally  displeasing  to  God  from  its 
ungenerous,  or,  rather,  unnatural  cha- 
racter, when,  in  place  of  using  the  influ- 
ence which  affection  confers,  to  the 
making  others  more  devoted  to  religion, 
you  employ  it  on  the  keeping  them  in 
bondage  to  Satan,  or  on  bringing  them 
back  after  they  had  broken  the  chain. 
You  thought  that  our  text  had  to  do 
with  a  very  trivial  matter ;  you  were 
almost  ready  to  smile  that  there  should 
be  a  law  about  birds'  nests.  But  now 
observe  where  we  have  found  that  nest : 
we  have  found  it  amid  the  warmest 
charities  of  the  heart,  builded  of  those 
tender  and  glowing  affections,  which 
you  have  only  to  destroy,  and  you  make 
earth  a  desert.  And  because  there  is 
such  a  nest,  a  nest  brooded  upon  by 
bright  rich  wings,  which  even  danger 
cannot  provoke  into  flight,  you  possess 
a  power  of  doing  an  injury ;  you  may 
help  to  imprison  an  immortal  soul,  a  soul, 


202 


THE  BIRDS  NEST. 


which,  had  it  not  been  thus  detained, 
would  have  sprung  upwards,  and  reach- 
ed "the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children 
of  God."  O  foul,  flagitious  use  of  a 
power  bestowed  by  an  affection  which 
should  have  secured,  as  it  deserved, 
most  generous  treatment  !  O  wretched 
parents,  who,  knowing  the  devoted  at- 
tachment of  children,  work  through  that 
attachment  to  the  persuading  them  to 
seek  happiness  in  the  world  !  O  wretch- 
ed children,  who,  calculating  on  the 
fondness  of  parents,  entreat  permission 
to  adventure  into  scenes  of  temptation  ! 
O  wretched  kinsfolk,  wretched  friends, 
who,  knowing  themselves  beloved, 
would  urge  those  who  love  them  to 
commence,  or  continue,  some  unrigh- 
teous practice  !  Again  we  say,  if  ye 
will  seethe  the  kid,  at  least  seethe  it 
not  in  its  mother's  milk.  If  you  must 
help  to  keep  others  in  sin,  let  it  not  be 
through  the  power  which  their  affection 
communicates.  This  is  aggravating  the 
guilt  :  this  is  making  the  injury  moie 
atrocious  :  this  is  abusing  a  high  trust, 
gaining  a  heart  that  you  may  pierce  it, 
a  fountain  that  you  may  poison  it.  And 
this  is  what  is  so  forcibly,  though  figura- 
tively, denounced  by  the  precept  of  our 
text,  a  precept  which  says  nothing 
against  seizing  the  parent  bird,  when  it 
is  not  her  affection  for  her  brood  which 
puts  her  in  your  power,  but  which,  in 
that  case,  is  most  decisive  against  her 
being  made  prisoner:  "  Thou  shalt  not 
take  the  dam  with  the  young  ;  thou  shalt 
in  any  wise  let  the  dam  go,  that  it  may 
be  well  with  thee,  and  that  thou  mayest 
prolong  thy  days." 

But  our  text  has  yet  to  be  considered 
under  another  point  of  view.  We  have 
hitherto  contended,  that,  though  it  be 
apparently  an  insignificant  matter  with 
which  the  commandment  before  us  is 
concerned,  principles  are  involved  of  a 
high  order,  and  a  wide  application,  so 
that  there  is  no  reason  for  surprise  at 
finding  long  life  promised  as  the  reward 
of  obedience.  But  we  will  now  assume 
the  Jews'  opinion  to  have  been  correct  : 
they  were  wont  to  say  of  this  command- 
ment, that  it  was  the  least  amongst  the 
commandments  of  Moses.  Admit  it  to 
have  been  so ;  admit  it  to  have  been  a 
very  trifling  thing  which  was  enjoined, 
and  that  no  satisfactory  reason  can  be 
given  why  the  Divine  lawgiver  should 
have  made  a  specific  enactment  as  to 


such  a  matter  as  a  bird's  nest.  There 
are  other  commandments  in  the  law,  for 
which  it  might  be  hard  to  assign  anv 
sufficient  reason,  save  and  except  that  it 
was  God's  pleasure  to  ordain  them. 
There  may  have  been  some  figurative, 
or  symbolical,  meaning ;  but  perhaps  it 
is  as  well  to  suppose  and  confess  that 
God  merely  sought  to  put  obedience  to 
the  proof,  when  He  said,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  wear  a  garment  of  divers  sorts,  as 
of  woolen  and  linen  together;"  or, 
"  Thou  shalt  make  thee  fringes  upon  the 
four  quarters  of  thy  vesture,  wherewith 
thou  coverest  thyself." 

Yet,  admitting  that  there  are  such 
things  as  commandments  about  trifles, 
admitting  also  that  the  commandment 
before  us  may  be  reckoned  in  the  num- 
ber, is  there  any  cause  for  wonder  that 
such  a  blessing  as  long  life  should  be 
promised  by  way  of  recompense  to  obe- 
dience 1  My  brethren,  there  is  a  great- 
er trial  of  obedience,  in  a  commandment 
of  which  we  cannot  see  the  reasons,  than 
in  another  of  which  we  can.  In  the 
former  case,  we  do,  or  forbear,  a  thing, 
simply  because  God  hath  enjoined,  or 
forbidden,  it ;  in  the  latter,  we  are  not 
moved  purely  by  the  divinity  of  the 
precept,  we  are  actuated  also  by  a  sense 
of  its  propriety.  A  commandment  which 
forbids  murder,  is  a  commandment  syl- 
labled by  conscience,  as  well  as  deliver- 
ed by  God  :  he  who  lifts  his  hand  to 
slay  another,  does  as  much  violence  to 
an  irrepressible  dictate  from  within,  as 
to  an  indelible  record  from  without.  But 
a  commandment  which  forbids  the  seiz- 
ing a  bird  whilst  sitting  on  the  nest,  is 
a  commandment  which  takes  its  force 
purely  from  being  a  commandment :  you 
might  have  done  the  thing  innocently, 
had  there  been  no  express  prohibition  ; 
and,  therefore,  it  is  only  there  being  a 
prohibition  which  makes  the  doing  it 
wrong.  And  surely,  it  may  be  a  greater 
effort  of  obedience,  to  obey  in  some  lit- 
tle thing,  where  there  is  no  other  reason 
but  that  God  hath  required  it,  than  to 
obey  in  some  great  thing,  where  our 
own  sense  of  what  is  right  urges  to  com- 
pliance. 

The  tendency  of  our  minds  is  to  the 
asking  a  reason  for  every  thing.  It  is 
so  with  doctrines.  God  reveals  to  us  a 
truth  :  but  we  are  not  content  to  take  it 
on  the  authority  of  revelation  ;  we  are 
for  asking  with  Nicodemus,  "  How  can 


THE  BIRDS  NEST. 


203 


these  things  be  1 "  we  want  to  be  able  to 
explain  the  doctrine,  and  thus  to  find 
grounds  for  our  belief,  over  and  above 
the  simple  word  of  the  Lord.  But  un- 
doubtedly it  is  a  higher,  and  must  be  a 
more  acceptable,  exercise  of  faith,  when 
we  receive  a  truth,  because  revealed, 
than  when,  because,  besides  being  re- 
vealed, we  can  so  arrange  it  that  it  com- 
mends itself  to  our  reason. 

It  is  the  same  with  commandments. 
God  enjoins  a  certain  thing  :  but  we  can 
hardly  bring  ourselves  to  obey,  simply 
because  He  has  enjoined  it.  We  have 
our  inquiries  to  urge — why  has  He  en- 
joined it  1  if  it  be  an  indifferent  thing, 
we  want  to  know  why  He  should  have 
made  it  the  subject  of  a  law  ]  why  not 
have  let  it  alone  ]  Why  not  ]  Because, 
we  may  venture  to  reply,  He  wishes  to 
test  the  principle  of  obedience :  He 
wishes  to  see  whether  his  will  and  his 
vqprd  are  sufficient  for  us.  In  order  to 
this,  He  must  legislate  upon  things  which 
in  themselves  are  indifferent,  neither 
morally  good  nor  morally  bad  :  He  must 
not  confine  laws  to  such  matters  as  rob- 
bing a  neighbor's  house,  on  which  con- 
science is  urgent ;  He  must  extend  them 
to  such  matters  as  taking  a  bird's  nest, 
on  which  conscience  is  silent. 

It  is  the  same  as  with  a  child.  He  is 
walking  in  a  stranger's  garden,  and  you 
forbid  his  picking  fruit :  he  knows  that 
the  fruit  is  not  his,  and  therefore  feels  a 
reason  for  the  prohibition.  But  he  is 
walking  on  a  common,  and  you  forbid 
his  picking  wild  flowers  :  he  knows  that 
no  one  has  property  in  these  flowers, 
and  therefore  he  cannot  see  any  reason 
for  your  prohibition.  Suppose  him  how- 
ever to  obey  in  both  cases,  abstaining 
alike  from  the  flowers  and  the  fruit,  in 
which  case  does  he  show  most  of  the 
principle  of  obedience,  most  of  respect 
for  your  authority  and  of  submission  to 
your  will  1  Surely,  when  he  does  not 
touch  the  flowers,  which  he  sees  no  rea- 
son for  not  touching,  rather  than  when 
he  does  not  gather  the  fruit,  which  he 
feels  that  he  can  have  no  right  to  gather. 
It  is  exactly  the  same  with  God  and 
ourselves.  He  may  forbid  things  which 
we  should  have  felt  to  be  wrong,  even 
had  they  not  been  forbidden  :  He  may 
forbid  things  which  we  should  not  have 
felt  wrong,  nay,  which  would  not  have 
been  wrong,  unless  He  had  forbidden 
them.     But  in  which  case  is  our  obe- 


dience most  put  to  the  proof "?  not  sure- 
ly as  to  the  thing  criminal  even  without 
a  commandment  :  but  as  to  the  thing  in- 
different till  there  was  a  commandment. 
God  might  have  made  it  the  test  of 
Adam's  obedience  that  he  should  not 
kill  Eve — a  crime  from  which  he  would 
have  instinctively  revolted  :  but  it  was 
a  much  greater  trial  that  he  should  not 
eat  of  a  particular  fruit  ;  for  eating  it 
was  no  crime  till  he  was  told  not  to  eat 
it. 

And  we  may  justly  believe  that,  in 
constructing  the  Jewish  code,  God  in- 
terspersed laws  for  which  there  was  no 
apparent  reason  with  others  for  which 
there  was  palpable,  on  purpose  that  He 
might  see  whether  his  people  would 
obey  his  word,  simply  because  it  was 
his  word ;  whether  they  would  wait  to 
know  why  He  commanded,  or  be  satis- 
fied with  ascertaining  what  He  com- 
manded. But  upon  this,  which  is  mani- 
festly the  correct  view  of  obedience,  it 
is  to  inconsiderable  precepts,  precepts 
as  to  inconsiderable  things,  rather  than 
to  those  which  have  to  do  with  felt  and 
undeniable  duties,  that  we  might  expect 
to  find  annexed  a  promise  of  reward. 
The  obedience  which  shows  most  of  the 
readiness  to  obey,  must  be  the  obe- 
dience which  God  most  approves  :  and 
if  there  be  shown  more  of  readiness  to 
obey,  where  the  thing  done  would  have 
been  indifferent,  than  where  it  would 
have  been  criminal  without  express 
command,  we  can  have  no  difficulty  in 
settling  that  the  recompense  of  long  life 
was  even  more  to  be  looked  for  when 
the  precept  had  to  do  with  a  trifle  than 
when  with  the  mightiest  obligation. 
Look  at  the  Jewish  law — "  Thou  shalt 
not  pervert  the  judgment  of  the  stran- 
ger, nor  of  the  fatherless," — a  noble 
commandment,  to  whose  fitness  every 
heart  responds.  "  If  a  bird's  nest  chance 
to  be  before  thee,  thou  shalt  not  take 
the  dam  with  the  young," — a  trivial 
comandment,  for  which  it  is  perhaps 
hard  to  assign  any  reason.  Yet  it  is  to 
the  latter,  the  trivial,  and  not  to  the  for- 
mer, the  noble,  that  the  words  are  add- 
ed, "  That  it  maybe  well  with  thee,  and 
that  thou  mayest  prolong  thy  days." 
Do  ye  wonder  at  this  1  Nay,  it  is  not 
that  it  is  a  better  thing  in  itself  to  let 
the  parent  bird  go,  than  to  minister  jus- 
tice to  the  stranger  and  the  fatherless  : 
but  that  it  is  often  harder  to  obey  in 


204 


THE  BIRD  S  NEST. 


trifles,  where  we  looked  to  have  been 
left  at  liberty,  than  in  great  things,  as  to 
whose  fitness  there  has  never  been  a 
doubt. 

By  such  laws,  with  such  sanctions, 
God  may  be  said  to  have  consecrated 
trifles ;  to  have  taught  us  that  trifles 
may  be  the  best  tests  of  principles ;  that 
our  religion  may  be  better  proved  by 
the  habitual  giving  up  of  our  own  wills 
in  common  and  every-day  things,  than 
by  occasional  and  opulent  sacrifices ; 
that  it  is  a  greater  effort  of  piety,  mark- 
ing more  the  depth  of  our  reverence  for 
the  word  of  the  Almighty,  to  make  con- 
science of  little  duties  which  are  made 
duties  only  by  that  word,  than  to  give 
ourselves  to  high  tasks,  to  which  we  are 
summoned  by  the  wants  of  the  world 
and  the  voice  of  the  Church.  It  may 
be  easier,  it  may  require  less  of  that 
simple,  unquestioning  obedience  in 
which  God  delights,  to  attack  supersti- 
tion on  its  throne,  than  to  let  the  bird 
fly  from  its  nest.  Be  careful,  then,  in 
religion  how  you  make  trifles  of  trifles. 
Stay  not  to  find  out  why  God  has  for- 
bidden this  or  that  indulgence,  why  He 
will  not  let  you  do  what  seems  unim- 
portant, why  He  prescribes  rules  where 
He  might,  as  it  appears,  have  safely  left 
you  to  yourselves.  Obey  because  there 
is  a  command,  ay,  though  it  be  only  the 
faintest  expression  of  the  Divinest  will ; 
Abraham  was  to  slay  Isaac,  because 
God  commanded  it ;  you  are  to  let  go 
the  bird,  because  God  commands  it. 
This  is  the  obedience  which  God  ap- 
proves ;  this  is  the  obedience  which  God 
will  recompense  ;  obedience,  not  with- 
out a  reason,  biU  with  no  reason  except 
the  Divine  bidding.  Oh!  you  have  only 
more  and  more  to  show  me  that  it  was 
really  unimportant,  whether  or  not  the 
old  bird  were  taken  with  the  young,  that 
there  could  have  been  no  harm  in  secur- 
ing both  at  once,  and  you  more  and 
more  explain  why  a  promise  of  prosper- 
ity should  be  annexed  to  the  command- 
ment, "  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  dam 
with  the  young  ;  thou  shalt  in  any  wise 
take  the  young  to  thee,  and  let  the  dam 

There  is  neither  space  nor  need  for 
many  concluding  observations.  Our  sub- 
ject   perhaps    looked    to    you    unpro- 


1  mising  at  the  first,  and  you  fancied  that 
little    material    of  edification    could  be 
found  in  such  a  precept  as  we  took  for 
our  text.     Yet  the  precept  has  furnish- 
ed us  with  important  practical  lessons, 
lessons     against     covetousness,    against 
cruelty,   against    extravagance,    against 
an  undue  use  of  the  power  given  us  by 
the  affections  of  others,  against  the  mak- 
ing little  in  religion  of  little  command- 
■  ments  and  little  duties.     What  a  won- 
j  derful  book  is  the   Bible,  that  its  every 
I  verse  should  comprehend  so  much,  sin- 
J  gle    sayings  being    as  miues  of  truth, 
into  which  if  you  patiently  dig,  you  find 
stores  of  instruction  and  yet  leave  more 
than  you  find  ! 

Be  very  careful  in  reading  Scripture, 
whether  the  Old  Testament  or  the  New, 
that  you  pass  not  over  parts,  as  though 
they  might  be  unimportant.  Neither 
be  always  content  with  the  primary 
meaning,  and  the  obvious  application. 
Scripture  has  a  hidden  sense  as  well  as 
an  open  ;  and  to  them  who  search  for 
it  with  prayer,  many  a  beautiful  import 
is  disclosed,  which  would  never  be  sus- 
pected by  the  careless  or  cursory  ob- 
server. A  verse  is  often  like  the  nest 
on  which  the  parent  bird  broods  :  when 
the  parent  bird  islet  go,  there  are  young 
birds  within,  each  of  which  has  only  to 
be  cherished  and  watched,  and  it  will  be 
"  covered  with  silver  wings,  and  her 
feathers  like  gold." 

With  other  lessons,  then,  carry  away 
this  as  to  the  depth  and  comprehensive- 
ness of  Scripture.  Read  the  Bible  your- 
selves, and  teach  your  children  to  read 
it,  as  a  book  that  should  be  pondered, 
not  hurried  over  ;  a  book,  so  to  speak, 
that  may  be  better  read  by  lines  than  by 
chapters.  Ay,  your  children — one's 
home  is  as  a  nest ;  Job,  when  all  was 
smiling  around  him,  reports  of  himself, 
"  Then  I  said,  I  shall  die  in  my  nest." 
It  is  a  nest,  a  nest  exposed  to  many  rude 
invasions.  The  parent  bird  cannot  al- 
ways tarry  with  the  young ;  but,  when 
dismissed  to  wing  its  own  flight  up- 
wards, that  parent  bird  may  leave  its 
little  ones  to  a  better  guardianship,  and 
anticipate  a  day  when  they  too  shall 
soar  to  brighter  regions,  and  find  a  rest- 
ing-place in  that  tree  of  life  which  is 
Christ  Himself. 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


205 


SERMON    IX. 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


"  They  shall  bear  thee  up  in  their  hands,  lest  thou  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone." — Psalm  xci.  12. 


The  preceding  verse  is,  "  For  He 
shall  give  his  angels  charge  over  thee, 
to  keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways."  You 
will  remember  that,  when  Satan  had 
placed  our  blessed  Lord  on  the  pinnacle 
of  the  Temple,  it  was  with  these  two 
verses  that  he  backed  his  temptation 
that  He  should  cast  Himself  down,  and 
obtain,  through  a  useless  and  ostentatious 
miracle,  the  homage  of  the  crowd  as- 
sembled for  worship.  But  the  devil  mis- 
quoted the  verses.  He  left  out  the 
words  "  in  all  thy  ways ;  "  thus  repre- 
senting the  angelic  guardianship  as  hav- 
ing no  limitation  ;  whereas  the  promise 
was  evidently  meant  to  apply  only 
whilst  there  was  adherence  to  the  ways 
of  duty — those  alone  being  the  ways 
which  could  be  called  "thy  ways," 
whether  the  passage  were  applied  indi- 
vidually to  the  Messiah,  or  generally  to 
the  Church. 

It  has  been  inferred  from  this  appli- 
cation of  the  passage  by  Satan,  that  the 
words  were  prophetic  of  Christ,  and 
should  be  interpreted  especially,  if  not 
exclusively,  of  a  care  or  protection  of 
which  our  Savior  was  the  object.  This 
inference,  however,  can  hardly  be  sus- 
tained :  as  the  devil  could  misquote,  he 
could  also  misapply  ;  and  though  it  may 
be  that,  in  its  highest  significance,  this 
ninety-first  Psalm  has  respect  to  the 
Messiah,  there  is  nothing  in  its  tone  to 
give  reason  why  it  may  not  be  taken  to 
himself,  by  every  true  believer  in  "  the 
Lord  our  righteousness." 

We  shall  assume  throughout  our  dis- 
course, that  the  Psalm  is  the  projierty, 
so  to  speak,  generally  of  the  Church  :  it 
ware  to  rob  the  members   of  some  of 


their  choicest  comfort  to  prove  that  it 
belonged  exclusively  to  the  Head.  If 
Satan  gained  nothing  by  applying  the 
Psalm  to  Christ,  he  would  have  gained 
much  if  it  were  thence  to  be  concluded 
that  it  applied  to  none  else. 

But  we  wish  also,  as  a  preliminary 
matter,  to  make  one  or  two  observations 
on  the  translation  adopted  in  the  author- 
ized version  of  our  text.  The  verb 
which  is  used  conveys  the  idea  of  some- 
thing very  violent,  "  lest  thou  dash  thy 
foot  against  a  stone."  But  it  does  not 
seem  as  if  the  original  required  us  to 
suppose  any  thing  very  violent.  The 
Hebrew  word  may  be  interpreted  mere- 
ly of  such  contact  with  a  stone  as  would 
make  you  stumble,  or  put  you  in  danger 
of  falling;  whereas  dashing  your  foot 
implies  extreme  force,  as  though  you 
were  the  subject  of  some  unusual  dis- 
aster or  accident.  You  see  that  it  makes 
a  great  difference  in  the  passage,  re- 
garded as  a  promise  to  the  righteous, 
which  of  the  two  turns  we  give  it  :  we 
are  always  in  danger  of  tripping  over  a 
stone  ;  we  are  not  always  in  danger  of 
dashing  the  foot  against  a  stone  :  so  that 
you  may  be  said  to  take  the  promise 
out  of  every-day  life,  and  to  confine  it 
to  extraordinary  emergencies,  when  it 
is  made  to  imply  such  violent  collision 
as  is  not  likely  to  occur  in  our  common 
walks. 

When  the  devil,  indeed,  used  the 
text  in  the  endeavor  to  persuade  Christ 
to  throw  Himself  headlong  from  the 
pinnacle  of  the  Temple,  it  was  literally 
the  dashing  the  font  against  a  stone 
which  might  have  been  expected  to 
occur  :  accordingly  the  word  "  dash"  is 


206 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS   IN  TRIFLES. 


employed  with  great  propriety  by  our 
translators,  in  giving  the  account  of  our 
blessed  Savior's  temptation.  Yet  it 
should  be  observed  that  even  the  Greek 
word,  which  is  thus  translated  "  dash," 
by  no  means  conveys  necessarily  the 
idea  of  great  force  or  violence.  It  is, 
for  example,  the  very  same  word  as  is 
employed  by  our  Lord  in  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  St.  John's  gospel,  where  He 
speaks  of  the  security  of  a  man  who 
walks  by  day,  as  compared  with  another 
who  walks  by  night.  "  Jesus  answered, 
Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day  1 
If  any  man  walk  in  the  day,  he  stumbleth 
not,  because  he  seeth  the  light  of  this 
world.  But  if  a  man  walk  in  the  night, 
he  stumbleth,  because  there  is  no  light  in 
him."  We  need  not  say  that  something 
much  less  than  dashing  the  foot  against  a 
stone,  will  cause  a  man  t.>  trip  or  stum- 
ble as  he  walks  in  a  dark  night.  He 
can  hardly  "  dash  the  foot"  unless  he  be 
running;  and  Christ,  at  least,  speaks 
only  of  his  walking. 

As  to  the  Hebrew  itself,  our  transla- 
tors have  not  always  made  it  convey  the 
idea  of  what  is  violent.  The  same  word 
occurs  in  the  third  chapter  of  the  book 
of  Proverbs,  where  you  read,  "  Then 
shalt  thou  walk  in  thy  way  safely,  and 
thy  foot  shall  not  stumble."  We  seem 
warranted,  then,  in  saying  that  nothing 
more  is  intended  in  our  text  than  that 
tripping  or  stumbling  which  may  in- 
deed occur  through  violent  contact  with 
some  great  impediment,  which  may  also 
be  occasioned  by  a  mere  pebble  in  our 
path,  and  when,  too,  we  are  proceeding 
at  a  leisurely  pace.  So  that,  for  once, 
the  Prayer  Book  version  is  probably  the 
more  accurate  of  the  two  :  for  this  runs, 
"  They  shall  bear  thee  in  their  hands, 
that  thou  hurt  not  thy  foot  against  a 
stone."  And  with  this  agrees  Bishop 
Horsley's  version,  "They  shall  bear 
thee  up  in  their  hands,  that  thou  hit  not 
thy  foot  against  a  stone."  There  is  far 
less  of  the  idea  of  violence  in  the  hitting, 
than  in  the  dashing  the  foot  against  a 
stone. 

You  will  understand,  as  we  proceed 
with  our  discourse,  why  we  have  been 
so  anxious  to  divest  the  passage  of  the 
idea  of  violence.  Not  that  we  wish 
you  to  suppose  that  the  promise  does 
not  include  the  case  of  dashing  the  foot; 
but  we  would  have  you  aware  that  it 
includes  cases  where  there  is  nothing  of 


this  forcible  collision,  every  case  in 
which  a  man  is  in  danger  of  stumbling, 
over  however  small  an  obstacle,  and  by 
however  gentle  a  movement. 

These  are  the  necessary  preliminaries 
to  our  discourse,  the  settling  to  whom 
the  text  may  be  applied,  and  the  defining 
the   precise  import   of  its    expressions. 
The    text,    you' see,    is   to  be    applied 
generally  to  the  Church,  to  the  people 
of  God,  of  every  age  and  of  every  de- 
gree.    The  import  of  its  expressions  is 
that    conveyed    by    the    version  in   the 
Prayer  Book,  which  makes  them  refer 
to    an  ordinary  and   every-day  danger. 
These  preliminaries  having  been  adjust- 
ed, we  have  to   endeavor  to  follow  out 
the    trains    of   thought    which    may  be 
evolved    from    the    assertion,   that  God 
gives  his  angels  charge   over  the  right- 
eous, to  bear  them   up   in   their  hands, 
lest  they  hurt  their  foot  against  a  stone. 
Now  the  first  thing  which  strikes  one, 
and  which  we  should  wish  to  set  vividly 
before  you,  is  the  contrast  between  the 
instrumentality  employed,  and  the  busi- 
ness upon  which  it  is  used.     Let  us  look 
a  little  at  what  Scripture  tells  us  of  an- 
gels :   we  may  not  be  able  to  understand 
much  as  to  these  glorious  and  powerful 
beings  ;     for    what    is    purely    spiritual 
evades  our  present  comprehension  ;  but 
we    cannot  fail  to  learn  that  they  are 
creatures  far  transcending  ourselves  in 
might  and   intelligence.     They  are  re- 
presented as  God's  ministers,  executing 
the   orders   of    his    Providence.      They 
wait  reverently  in  his  presence,  to  re- 
ceive   the   intimations    of  his  will,    and 
then  pass,  with  the  speed  of  lightning, 
through  the  universe,  that  they  may  ac- 
complish whatsoever  He  hath  purposed. 
Of  vast    number,    for   "  the  chariots  of 
God,"  saith  the   Psalmist,  "  are  twenty 
thousand,    even    thousands    of  angels," 
they  are  described  in  holy  writ  as  "  crea- 
tures of  wonderful  agility  and  swiftness 
of  motion,    therefore    called    cherubim, 
that    is,   winged    creatures,"    and  sera- 
phim,   or  flames  of  fire,  because  of  so 
strange  a  subtlety  as  to  "  penetrate  into 
any  kind  of  bodies,  yea,  insinuate  them- 
selves into,  and  affect,  the  very  inward 
senses    of   men*."     An    angel,  in    and 
through   a  dream  of  the  night,  moved 
Joseph  to  take  the  young  child  and  his 


Bishop  Bull. 


\NJiELS   OUR  GUARDIAN'S  IN  TRIFLES. 


207 


mother,  and  return  out  of  Egypt.  In 
like  manner,  an  angel  roused  Peter  from 
his  sleep,  led  him  past  the  keepers,  and 
delivered  him  from  the  dungeon.  That 
these  angels  are  endowed  with  admira- 
ble efficacy  and  power,  we  learn  from 
the  invocation  of  David,  "  Bless  the 
Lord,  ye  his  angels,  that  excel  in 
strength,  that  do  his  commandments, 
hearkening  unto  the  voice  of  his  word  ;  " 
and  from  the  fearful  history  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  hosts  of  the  Assyrian, 
when,  in  a  single  night,  and  through  the 
single  agency  of  one  of  these  celestial 
beings,  "  an  hundred  fourscore  and  five 
thousand  "  became  "  all  dead  corpses." 

We  know  also  of  angels,  that,  "  as 
immortal  beings,  they  have  no  principle 
of  corruption  within  themselves  ;  as  un- 
alterable at  least  as  the  pure  heaven 
where  they  dwell,  they  can  never  die  or 
perish  but  by  the  hand  of  Him  that  first 
gave  them  being;"*  for,  speaking  of 
"  the  children  of  the  Resurrection," 
Christ  hath  said,  "  Neither  can  they  die 
any  more  :  for  they  are  equal  unto  the 
angels." 

And  if  these  be  only  scattered  and 
passing  intimations  of  the  nature  and 
office  of  holy  angels,  they  are,  at  least, 
sufficient  to  impress  us  with  a  sense  of 
the  greatness  and  gloriousness  of  these 
invisible  beings  ;  a  sense  which  can  but 
be  confirmed  and  increased,  when  we 
consider  what  fallen  angels  have 
wrought ;  they  being,  according  to  the 
representations  of  Scripture,  the  grand 
antagonists  of  the  Almighty  Himself, 
and,  though  doomed  to  a  certain  de- 
struction, yet  able,  for  century  after  cen- 
tury, to  keep  the  universe  unhinged  and 
disordered,  not  indeed  to  frustrate  the 
Divine  plans,  but  to  oppose  such  obsta- 
cles to  their  completion  as  nothing  short 
of  Divine  power  could  surmount.  What 
angels  are  that  have  kept  their  first  es- 
tate, we  may  infer  in  a  measure  from 
what  is  done  in  us  and  around  us,  by 
angels  that  have  apostatized  from  God. 

And  when  you  have  duly  considered 
and  collected  what  is  made  known  to 
us  as  to  angels,  it  cannot  fail  but  that 
you  will  have  a  very  lofty  idea  of  these, 
the  principalities  and  powers  of  the  in- 
visible world,  and  that  you  will  expect 
to  find  them  occupied  with  matters  that 


Bishop  Bull. 


shall  seem  worthy  their  stupendous  en- 
dowments. Believing  that  God  will  al- 
ways proportion  the  means  which  He 
employs  to  the  end  which  He  proposes, 
you  would  conclude  that  the  highest  of 
created  intelligences,  such  as  the  angels 
are  to  be  accounted,  must  be  employed 
only  on  what  is  dazzling  and  magnifi- 
cent, on  the  carrying  out  the  designs  of 
the  Almighty  in  and  through  the  nobler 
combinations  of  cause  and  effect.  And 
it  might  almost  strike  you  as  derogatory 
to  the  dignity  of  angels,  that  they  should 
be  represented  in  Scripture  as  "  minis- 
tering spirits  "  to  the  heirs  of  salvation: 
you  might  almost  imagine  it  beneath 
beings  of  endowment  so  far  surpassing 
our  own,  that  it  should  be  a  part,  and, 
as  it  would  seem,  a  main  part  of  their 
office,  to  attend  us  on  our  passage  through 
this  troublesome  world,  and  aid  our  en- 
deavors to  secure  eternal  life. 

Yet  there  is  nothing  more  clearly  laid 
down  in  the  Bible,  than  that  angels  are 
thus  employed  in  waiting  on  the  right- 
eous :  and  when  you  come  to  think  of 
the  worth  of  the  human  soul,  a  worth 
which,  if  you  can  measure  it  by  nothing 
else,  you  may  judge  in  a  degree  by  the 
price  paid  for  its  redemption,  you  will 
probably  cease  to  be  surprised,  that  not 
only  is  there  "joy  in  heaven  over  one 
sinner  that  repenteth,"  but  that  the  ce- 
lestial hosts  marshal  themselves  for  the 
guardianship  of  the  believer,  and  use 
their  vast  power  in  promoting  his  good. 

This,  however,  is  removing  the  appa- 
rent contradiction  to  the  lofty  nature  and 
sublime  endowments  of  angels,  by  mag- 
nifying the  employment,  by  arguing  that 
it  cannot  be  beneath  any  created  intelli- 
gence to  minister  unto  man  for  whom 
God's  Son  hath  died.  But  if,  over  and 
above  the  general  fact  of  angels  being 
ministering  spirits  to  the  heirs  of  salva- 
tion, the  Bible  set  forth  angels  as  doing 
little,  inconsiderable,  things  on  behalf 
of  man,  interfering  where  there  seems 
no  scope  for,  or  no  need  of,  their  vast 
power,  discharging  offices  of  the  most 
trifling  description,  rendering  services 
which  can  hardly  be  observed,  and  be- 
tween which  and  their  ability  there  is 
the  greatest  apparent  disproportion, 
then,  in  all  probability,  your  surprise 
will  return,  and  you  will  again  think  the 
occupation  derogatory  to  the  beings  so 
employed. 

Yet  such  is  the   case  :  the   scriptural 


208 


ANGELS   OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


representation  brings  down  the  minis- 
tration of  angels  to  what  appears  trivial 
and  insignificant,  in  place  of  confining 
it  to  some  great  crisis  in  <die  history  of 
the  righteous.  And  it  is  this  fact  which 
is  so  forcibly  set  before  us  by  our  text. 
For  what  contrast  can  be  greater  ?  We 
direct  you  to  the  examining  whatsoever 
is  told  you  in  the  Bible  as  to  the  nature 
and  endowments  of  angel?.  You  cannot 
come  from  such  an  examination  but  with 
minds  fraught  with  a  persuasion  of  the 
greatness  and  gloriousness  of  the  hea- 
venly hosts,  impressed  with  a  sense  of 
the  vastness  of  their  capacities,  the  splen- 
dor of  their  excellence,  the  majesty  of 
their  strength.  And  then  we  set  you  to 
the  considering  what  occupation  can  be 
worthy  of  creatures  thus  pre-eminently 
illustrious  ;  not  allowing  you  indeed  to 
indulge  the  excursions  of  imagination, 
which  might  rapidly  hurry  you  into  the 
invisible  world,  and  there  place  before 
you  the  thrones  and  dominions  of  those 
whom  God  is  pleased  to  honor  as  his 
instruments  in  the  government  of  the 
universe  ;  but  confining  you  to  the  sin- 
gle truth,  that  angels  have  offices  to  per- 
form to  the  Church,  and  that  every  right- 
eous man  is  a  subject  of  their  ministra- 
tions. But,  confined  to  this  single  truth, 
your  minds  will  probably  be  busied  with 
vast  and  magnificent  enterprize :  you 
know  that  there  is  going  on,  amongst 
other  orders  of  being,  a  contest  for  as- 
cendancy over  man  ;  and  so  soon  there- 
fore as  told  of  good  angels  as  minister- 
ing to  the  heirs  of  salvation,  you  will  be 
likely  to  think  of  the  war  which  they 
wage  with  Satan  and  his  hosts,  and  to 
throw  a  dignity  round  their  ministration 
to  the  meanest  of  Christ's  people,  by 
identifying  it  with  championship  in  that 
portentous  strife,  which,  for  wise  ends, 
God  permits  to  agitate  his  empire. 

But  what  will  you  say,  when  Scrip- 
ture forces  you  away  from  this  battle 
between  the  mighty  powers  of  the  in- 
visible world,  and  obliges  you  to  con- 
template angels  as  engaged  with  occu- 
pations which  the  most  vivid  fancy  can 
scarce  invest  with  any  thing  of  splendor, 
nay,  can  scarce  perhaps  rescue  from 
what  is  insignificant  and  degrading  1 
Oh,  it  were  almost  startling,  after  hear- 
ing of  the  might  and  majesty  of  angels, 
to  hear  of  creatures  so  lofty  as  having 
any  ministrations  to  perform  towards 
ourselves,   children   of  corruption,  and 


crushed  before  the  rrioth.  But  what 
shall  we  say  when  angels  are  introduced 
as  bearing  up  the  believer  in  their  hands, 
not  that  he  may  be  carried  in  safety  over 
some  vast  ocean,  not  that  he  may  be 
transported  through  hostile  and  mena- 
cing squadrons,  not  that,  when  exposed 
to  some  extraordinary  danger,  he  may 
be  conveyed  to  a  place  of  refuge,  but. 
as  bearing  him  up  in  their  arms,  "lest 
at  any  time  he  hurt  his  foot  against  a 
stone  ?  " 

Now  we  thus  bring  out  the  great  pe- 
culiarity, and,  at  the  same  time,  the  great 
beauty  of  the  text,  the  contrast  between 
the  instrumentality  which  is  employed, 
and  the  thing  which  is  done.  Angels, 
the  topmost  beings  in  creation,  the  ra- 
diant, the  magnificent,  the  powerful — 
angels  are  represented  as  holding  up  a 
righteous  man,  lest  some  pebble  in  the 
path  should  make  him  trip,  lest  he  hurt 
his  foot  against  a  stone.  But  you  may 
be  sure  that  we  do  not  take  pains  to 
make  you  aware  of  this  contrast  merely 
because  of  its  singularity  or  unexpected- 
ness :  we  would  not  have  drawn  it  out 
as  we  have  done,  and  thus  endeavored 
to  gain  for  it  a  hold  upon  your  minds, 
had  we  not  believed  that  important  truths 
were  to  be  gathered  from  the  assign- 
ment of  what  looks  so  trifling,  the  keep- 
ing a  man  from  hurting  his  foot  against 
a  stone,  to  beings  of  such  transcendant 
glory  and  strength  as  the  Bible,  in  every 
part,  attributes  unto  angels. 

Let  us  now,  therefore,  see  whether 
there  is  not  much  to  be  gathered,  both 
for  comfort  and  instruction,  from  a  con- 
trast which  has  only  to  be  pointed  out, 
and  it  must  immediately  be  felt  as  every 
way  remarkable.  We  would  not  indeed 
have  it  thought  that  the  contrast  is  the 
solitary  one  of  the  kind,  nor  even  per- 
haps that  it  is  not  exceeded  in  strange- 
ness by  others  which  may  be  observed 
in  the  Bible.  Who  that  thinks  of  the 
greatness  and  stupendousness  of  God, 
and  then  asks  himself  what  can  be  a  fit- 
ting employment  for  God,  does  not  find 
his  mind  turning,  almost  naturally,  to 
stars  and  systems,  whose  stately  move- 
ments have  to  be  ordered  ?  or  to  em- 
pires, whose  rise  and  fall  seem  impor- 
tant enough  for  the  attention  of  the  uni- 
versal Governor?  or,  if  to  individuals  of 
our  race,  yet  to  the  more  eminent  and 
distinguished,  on  whom  commonwealths 
depend,  and  to  these  only  at  some  spe 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


209 


cial  times,  when  nothing  less  than  Divine 
power  can  suffice  for  the  extricating 
them  from  difficulty,  or  the  delivering 
them  from  danger  1 

But  how  different  are  the  representa- 
tions of  Scripture.  "  God  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  their  eyes."  God 
the  doer,  the  wiping  away  tears  the 
thing  done — what  a  contrast  !  what  ap- 
parent disproportion  !  Then  the  pray- 
er of  David,  "  Put  thou  my  tears  into 
thy  bottle  " — what  a  picture  does  it  give 
of  God  !  there  is  something  which  looks 
God-like  in  Isaiah's  delineation,  He 
*'  hath  measured  the  waters  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  hand  ;  "  but  putting  our  tears 
into  his  bottle,  if  we  had  not  found  it  in 
the  Bible,  we  might  not  have  dared  to 
imagine  it.  Thus  again,  "  Thou  wilt 
make  all  his  bed  in  his  sickness," — what 
an  image  of  Deity  !  what  an  occupation 
for  Deity  !  it  is  hardly  possible,  with  the 
mind  fresh  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  unwearied  actings  of  God  amid  the 
awful  grandeurs  of  creation,  to  realize 
the  picture,  yea,  even  to  feel  as  if  there 
were  nothing  unbecoming  or  irreverent 
in  the  picture,  of  God's  making  the  bed 
of  one  of  his  sick  servants. 

The  contrast,  then,  in  our  text  between 
an  agency  so  mighty  as  that  of  angels, 
and  an  act  so  inconsiderable  as  that  of 
keeping  a  man  from  hurting  his  foot 
against  a  stone,  is  not  the  alone  speci- 
men of  the  kind,  but  rather  one  of  a 
number  which  may  all  be  presumed  to 
enforce  the  same  truths.  And  what  we 
would  have  you  observe  of  such  a  con- 
trast, is,  that  it  is  the  very  minuteness, 
the  seeming  insignificance,  of  the  thing 
done,  which  gives  its  chief  worth  to  the 
promise  in  our  text.  For  the  doctrine 
of  a  special  Providence  is  valuable  in 
proportion  as  we  extend  it  to  what  the 
world  counts  trifles,  to  things  of  every- 
day occurrence.  If  you  confine,  as  many 
do,  the  doctrine  of  God's  providence  to 
great  events,  supposing  that  it  is  only 
on  some  extraordinary  emergence,  in 
6ome  unusual  danger  or  difficulty,  that 
God  may  be  thought  to  give  attention 
to  an  individual  or  a  family,  then  truly 
there  is  but  little  comfort  in  the  doc- 
trine ;  for  life,  with  most  men,  is  but  a 
round  of  petty  things  ;  each  day  is  the 
repetition  of  the  preceding,  the  same 
simple  duties,  the  same  simple  trials  ; 
and  as  to  a  great  crisis,  which  may  war- 
rant a  belief  that  Deity,  too  highly  ex- 
27 


alted,  or  too  busily  occupied,  to  concern 
Himself  with  ordinary  things,  is  inter- 
posing and  observing,  really  most  of  us 
might  pass  year  after  year,  proceeding 
from  youth  to  manhood,  and  from  man- 
hood to  old  age,  without  being  able  to 
fix  an  occasion  which  might  justify  our 
supposing  that  the  crisis  had  been 
reached. 

But  the  scriptural  doctrine  of  Divine 
providence  is  altogether  different  from 
what  such  a  limitation  would  give.  The 
scriptural  doctriue  makes  nothing  too 
little  for  the  care,  as  nothing  too  great 
for  the  power,  of  God.  The  scriptural 
doctrine  sets  God  before  us  as  mindful 
of  the  fall  of  a  sparrow,  as  well  as  of  the 
decay  of  an  empire  ;  us  numbering  the 
hairs  of  our  heads,  as  well  as  the  years 
of  our  lives.  Whether  it  be  through 
his  own  immediate  agency,  or  whether 
He  employ  the  instrumentality  of  his 
creatures,  God  is  represented  in  the 
Bible  as  giving  the  most  accurate  heed, 
the  most  patient  and  observant  attention, 
to  the  every-day  wants  of  the  meanest 
amongst  us  ;  so  that  nothing  happens, 
though  of  the  most  trival  description,  to 
the  most  insignificant  of  our  race, 
save  in  and  through  the  Divine  appoint- 
ment or  permission  ;  and  there  is  not 
the  poor  man,  whom  the  rising  sun 
wakens  to  the  going  forth  to  toil  for  his 
daily  bread,  who  may  not  as  distinctly 
assure  himself  of  his  carrying  with  him 
to  his  wearisome  task  the  ever-watchful 
guardianship  of  the  Almighty  Maker  of 
the  heavens  and  the  earth,  as  though  he 
were  the  leader  of  armies,  or  the  ruler 
of  nations. 

Blessed  be  God  for  a  truth  such  as 
this.  It  should  go  home  to  every  heart. 
It  cannot  fail  to  go  home,  wheresoever 
a  sense  exists  of  the  uncertainty  of  life, 
of  the  exposure  to  accident,  of  the  wheel 
within  wheel  in  the  most  common-place 
occurrences,  of  that  utter  powerlessness 
of  looking  into  the  future,  and  providing 
for  its  contingencies,  which  attaches 
alike  to  the  wisest  of  us  and  to  the  weak- 
est. We  are  not  only  permitted,  we 
are  commanded,  to  cast  all  our  care  up- 
on God,  and  that,  too,  on  the  very  prin- 
ciple of  his  caring  for  us  ; — all  our  care 
— oh,  that  we  might  learn  to  keep  no 
care  to  ourselves,  to  commit  our  least 
anxieties  to  God,  to  lean  upon  his  assist- 
ance in  the  performance  of  our  least 
duties,  upon  his  strength  in  the  endur- 


210 


ANGELS   OUR  GUARDIANS   IN  TRIFLES 


ance  of  our  least  ti  ials,  upon  his  com- 
forts for  the  soothing  of  our  least  sor- 
rows. If  we  would  not  exclude  God 
from  any  thing  little,  we  should  find 
Him  with  us  in  everything  great.  If 
we  thought  nothing  beneath  God,  we 
should  find  nothing  above  Him.  And 
the  beauty,  as  we  have  said,  of  such  pas- 
sages as  our  text,  lies,  not  in  their  en- 
listing on  man's  side  the  most  magnifi- 
cent instrumentality,  but  in  their  enlist- 
ing it  for  some  apparently  trivial  and 
inconsiderable  purpose.  For  to  tell  me 
of  angels,  the  ministers  whom  God  is 
pleased  to  employ  for  the  carrying  on 
bis  providential  operations,  as  appointed 
to  the  attending  my  path  in  certain  great 
emergencies  or  perplexities,  there  would 
comparatively  be  little  or  nothing  of 
comfort  in  this ;  what  I  want  is  an 
every-day  providence.  I  want  a  guard- 
ianship which  will  go  with  me  to  my 
every-day  duties,  which  will  be  around 
me  in  my  every-day  trials,  which  shall 
attend  me  in  the  household,  in  the  street, 
in  my  business,  in  my  prayers,  in  my 
recreations  ;  which  I  may  be  aware  of 
as  watchful  where  there  is  no  apparent 
peril,  and  which  I  may  be  assured  of  as 
sufficient  where  there  is  the  worst. 

And  such  a  guardianship  is  revealed 
to  me,  when  the  hosts  of  heaven  are 
affirmed  to  be  employed  on  the  protect- 
ing me  against  the  most  trifling  acci- 
dent. Oh  !  it  might  not  do  much  to- 
wards cheering  and  elevating  the  poor 
and  unknown  of  the  flock,  or  towards 
the  daily,  hourly  upholding  of  such  as 
have  higher  places  to  fill,  to  be  told  of 
angels  as  encamping,  as  they  encamped 
about  Elisha,  crowding  the  mountain 
with  chariots  of  fire  and  horses  of  fire, 
when  the  king  of  Syria  sent  a  great 
host  to  take  the  man  of  God.  It  cannot 
be  often,  if  ever,  that  there  is  anything 
parallel  to  this  peril  of  the  prophet. 
But  it  just  brings  the  celestial  armies,  in 
all  their  powerfulness,  into  the  scenes 
of  ordinary  life — in  other  words,  it 
gives  to  the  doctrine  of  a  Divine  provi- 
dence all  that  extensiveness,  that  indi- 
viduality, that  applicability  to  the  most 
inconsiderable  events,  as  well  as  that 
adequacy  to  the  most  important,  which 
we  require,  if  the  doctrine  is  to  be  of 
worth  and  of  efficacy,  at  all  times,  to 
all  ranks,  and  in  all  cases — to  be  told 
that  God  has  commissioned  angels,  the 
mightiest  of  his   creatures,  to  bear  us 


up  in  their  hands,  not  lest  we  fall  over 
a  precipice,  come  beneath  an  avalanche, 
sink  in  a  torrent,  but  lest  at  any  time 
we  hurt  our  foot  against  a  stone. 

We  are  far,  however,  from  being  con- 
tent with  this  view  of  the  passage. 
There  is  indeed  something  that  is  ex- 
quisitely soothing  and  encouraging  in 
the  thought  that  angels,  as  ministering 
spirits,  are  so  mindful  of  us  that  they 
look  to  the  very  pebbles  which  might 
cause  us  to  trip  ; — how  can  we  be  other 
than  safe  if  we  do  but  trust  in  the  Lord, 
when  there  is  such  care  for  our  safety 
that  the  highest  of  created  beings  sedu- 
lously remove  the  least  impediments,  or 
watch  that  we  surmount  them  1  But 
this  proceeds  on  the  supposition  that 
the  hurting  the  foot  against  a  stone  is  a 
trivial  thing  We  have  spoken  of  the 
contrast  in  the  text  as  though  it  were 
matter  of  surprise,  that  such  an  instru- 
mentality as  that  of  angels  should  be 
employed  to  so  insignificant  an  end  as 
that  of  preventing  the  hurting  the  foot 
against  a  stone.  But  is  it  an  insignifi- 
cant end  ]  Is  there,  after  all,  any  want 
of  keeping  between  the  agency  and  the 
act,  so  that  there  is  even  the  appearance 
of  angels  being  unworthily  employed, 
employed  on  what  is  beneath  them,  when 
engaged  in  bearing  us  up,  lest  at.  any 
time  we  hurt  the  foot  against  a  stone  1 

Nay,  the  hurting  the  foot  against  a 
stone  has  often  laid  the  foundation  of 
fatal  bodily  disease  :  the  injury  which 
seemed  too  trifling  to  be  worth  notice 
has  produced  extreme  sickness,  and 
ended  in  death.  Is  it  different  in  spirit- 
ual respects,  in  regard  of  the  soul,  to 
which  the  promise  in  our  text  must  be 
specially  applied  1  Not  a  jot.  Or,  if 
there  be  a  difference,  it  is  only  that  the 
peril  to  the  soul  from  a  slight  injury  is 
far  greater  than  that  to  the  body  :  the 
worst  spiritual  diseases  might  commonly 
be  traced  to  inconsiderable  beginnings; 
This,  my  brethren,  is  a  fact  worthy 
your  closest  attention  :  we  want  yru 
now  to  argue,  from  angels  bearing  us  in 
their  hands,  lest  we  hurt  the  foot  against 
a  stone,  that  the  hurting  the  foot  against 
a  stone  is  no  such  trifle  as  it  seems ; 
and  we  are  sure  that,  if  you  consider 
awhile,  you  will  admit  that  the  import- 
ance of  the  thing  done  every  way  war- 
rants that  angels  should  be  employed  on 
the  doing  it. 

Let  us  fix  your  attention  on  a  case  of 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


211 


lamentable  frequency,  that  which  came 
under  the  survey  of  St.  Paul,  when  he 
he  had  to  say  to  members  of  the  Qala- 
tian  Church,  "  Ye  did  run  well  ;  who 
did  hinder  you  that  ye  should  not  obey 
the  truth  I  "  There  is  many  a  man  who 
evinces,  for  a  time,  a  stedfast  attention 
to  religion,  walking  with  all  care  in  the 
path  of  God's  commandments,  using 
appointed  means  of  grace,  and  avoiding 
occasions  of  sin,  but  who,  after  a  while, 
in  the  expi-essive  language  of  Scripture, 
leaves  his  first  love,  declines  from  spirit- 
uality, and  is  dead,  though  he  may  yet 
have  a  name  to  live.  But  how  does  it 
commonly  happen  that  such  a  man  falls 
away  from  the  struggle  for  salvation, 
and  mingles  with  the  multitude  that 
walk  the  broad  road'?  Is  it  ordinarily 
through  some  one  powex-ful  and  undis- 
guised assault  that  he  is  turned  from  the 
faith,  or  over  one  huge  obstacle  that  he 
falls  to  rise  not  again  l  Not  so.  It  is  al- 
most invariably  through  little  things  that 
such  a  man  destroys  his  soul.  He  fails 
to  take  notice  of  little  things,  and  they 
accumulate  into  great.  He  allows  him- 
self in  little  things,  and  they  accumulate 
into  great.  He  allows  himself  in  little 
things,  and  thus  forms  a  strong  habit.  He 
concedes  in  little  things,  and  thus  gradu- 
ally gives  up  much ;  he  relaxes  in  little 
things,  and  thus  in  time  loosens  every 
bond.  Because  it  is  a  little  thing,  he 
counts  it  of  little  moment ;  utterly  for- 
getting that  millions  are  made  up  of  units, 
that  immensity  is  constituted  of  atoms. 
Because  it  is  only  a  stone,  a  pebble, 
against  which  his  foot  strikes,  ho  makes 
light  of  the  hindrance ;  not  caring  that 
he  is  contracting  a  habit  of  stumbling, 
or  not  observing,  that,  whenever  he  trips, 
there  must  be  some  dimunition  in  the 
speed  with  which  he  runs  the  way  of 
God's  commandments,  and  that,  how- 
ever slowly,  these  dimunitions  are  cer- 
tainly bringing  him  to  a  stand. 

The  astronomer  tells  us,  that  because 
they  move  in  a  resisting  medium,  which, 
perhaps,  in  a  million  of  years,  destroys 
the  millionth  part  of  their  velocity,  the 
heavenly  bodies  will  at  length  cease  from 
their  mighty  march.  May  not,  then,  the 
theologian  assure  us,  that  little  rough- 
nesses in  the  way,  each  retarding  us, 
though  in  an  imperceptible  degree,  will 
eventually  destroy  the  onward  move- 
ment, however  vigorous  and  direct  it 
iray  at  one  time  have  seemed  'I     Would 


to  God  that  we  could  persuade  you  of 
the  peril  of  little  offences.  We  are  not 
halt  as  much  afraid  of  your  hurting  the 
head  against  a  rock,  as  of  your  hurting 
the  foot  against  a  stone.  There  is  a  sort 
of  continued  attrition,  resulting  from  our 
necessary  intercourse  with  the  world, 
which  of  itself  deadens  the  movements 
of  the  soul  ;  there  is  moreover  a  con- 
tinued temptation  to  yield  in  little  points, 
under  the  notion  of  conciliating  ;  to  in- 
dulge in  little  things,  to  forego  little 
strictnesses,  to  omit  little  duties ;  and 
all  with  the  idea  that  what  looks  so 
slight  cannot  be  of  real  moment.  And 
by  these  littles,  thousands,  tens  of  thou- 
sands, perish.  If  they  do  not  come  ac- 
tually and  openly  to  a  stand,  they  stum- 
ble and  stumble  on,  getting  more  and 
more  careless,  nearer  and  nearer  to  indif- 
ference, lowering  the  Christian  stand- 
ards, suffering  religion  to  be  peeled  away 
by  inches,  persuading  themselves  that 
they  can  spare  without  injury  such  in- 
considerable bits,  and  not  perceiving, 
that  in  stripping  the  bark,  they  stop  the 
sap. 

On  the  other  hand,  men  become  emi- 
nent in  piety  by  giving  heed  to  little 
things  ;  grateful  for  the  smallest  good, 
watchful  over  the  smallest  error,  fearful 
of  the  smallest  sin,  careful  of  the  small- 
est truth.  They  become  great,  through 
counting  nothing  little  but  themselves ; 
great  in  knowledge,  through  studying 
the  least  sentence,  and  treasuring  the 
least  fragment ;  great  in  faith,  through 
noting  God's  hand  in  little  incidents,  and 
going  to  Him  in  little  sorrows  ;  great  in 
holiness,  through  avoiding  little  faults, 
and  being  exact  in  little  duties.  They 
thought  it  no  trifle  to  strike  the  foot 
against  a  stone,  and  therefore  is  their 
step  so  firm,  and  their  port  so  erect, 
however  rugged  and  difficult  the  path. 
And  are  not  then  angels  worthily  em- 
ployed, when  employed  in  bearing  up 
the  righteous,  "lest  at  any  time  they 
hurt  their  foot  against  a  stone  1  "  If 
they  are  "  ministering  spirits,"  watchful 
of  whatsoever  may  endanger  our  salva- 
tion, think  not  that  it  must  be  to  things 
which  seem  to  us  great,  that  they  give 
special  heed  ;  they  know  far  better  than 
ourselves,  though  even  we  may  know  it 
well  if  we  will,  that  it  is  the  little  which, 
neglected,  makes  apostates ;  which,  ob- 
served, makes  apostles. 

Then  turn  henceforward;  the  text  to 


212 


ANGELS  OUR  GUARDIANS  IN  TRIFLES. 


good  account,  as  a  warning  against  com- 
mitting small  sins,  a  motive  to  diligence 
in  small  duties.  Learn,  from  what  an- 
gels are  intent  to  do  for  you,  what  you 
should  be  earnest  in  endeavoring  to  do 
for  yourselves.  Those  glorious,  though 
invisible,  beings  bestow  not  their  vigi- 
lance and  carefulness  on  what  is  unwor- 
thy so  lofty  an  instrumentality.  They 
would  not  give  such  earnest  heed  to 
pebbles  in  the  way,  if  it  were  not  that 
pebbles  are  what  men  stumble  over  till 
precipitated  into  perdition,  or  what  they 
mount  upon  till  elevated  into  excellence. 
And  if  it  might  make  you  feel  as  though 
it  were  only  at  some  great  crisis,  under 
some  extraordinary  temptation,  or  con- 
fronted by  more  than  common  enemies, 
that  you  had  need  for  anxiety,  effort, 
and  prayer,  to  be  told  of  angels  as  at- 
tending you  to  ward  off*  the  thunderbolt, 
or  chain  the  tempest,  oh,  let  it  teach  you 
how  easy  a  thing  it  is  to  lose  the  soul, 
from  what  insignificant  beginnings  may 
fatal  disease  rise,  with  what  unwearied 
earnestness  you  should  avoid  disobey- 
ing God  in  trifles,  conforming  to  the 
world  in  trifles,  relaxing  in  duty  in  tri- 
fles, to  be  told  that  angels,  creatures  of 
surpassing  splendor  and  might,  are  com- 
missioned to  bear  us  up  in  their  hands, 
not  lest  at  any  time  we  rush  into  the 
lion's  den,  or  fall  from  the  mountain  top, 
but  "  lest  at  any  time  we  hurt  the  foot 
against  a  stone." 

There  is  one  other  remark  which 
ought  to  be  made  on  our  text,  though  it 
may  perhaps  be  involved  in  those  which 
have  already  been  advanced.  We  have 
endeavored  to  show  you,  from  the  vast 
importance  in  religion  of  giving  heed  to 
little  things,  that  is  far  enough  from  be- 
ing derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  angels, 
that  they  should  be  employed  on  keep- 
ing the  righteous  from  hurting  the  foot 
against  a  stone.  You  cease  to  wonder- 
that  such  instrumentality  should  be  used, 
if  it  be  a  thing  of  such  moment  towards 
which  it  is  directed.  But  you  ought 
further  to  observe,  that  it  must  be  a 
thing,  not  only  of  importance,  but  of  dif- 
ficulty; otherwise,  it  would  hardly  be 
represented  as  engaging,  or  occupying, 
the  ministration  of  angels.  It  can  be  no 
easy  thing,  this  keeping  the  foot  from 
being  hurt  against  a  stone,  seeing  that 
the  highest  of  created  beings  are  com- 
missioned to  effect  it.  Neither  is  it. 
The  difficulty  in  religion  is  the  taking 


up  the  cross  "daily,"  rather  than  the 
taking  it  up  on  some  set  occasion,  and 
under  extraordinary  circumstances. — 
The  serving  God  in  little  things,  the  car- 
rying religious  principle  into  all  the  de- 
tails of  life,  the  discipline  of  our  tem- 
pers, the  regulation  of  our  speech,  the 
domestic  Christianity,  the  momentary 
sacrifices,  the  secret*  and  unobserved 
self-denials ;  who,  that  knows  any  thing 
of  the  difficulties  of  piety,  does  not  know 
that  there  is  greater  danger  of  his  failing 
in  these  than  in  trials  of  apparently  far 
higher  cost,  and  harder  endurance  ;  if 
on  no  other  account,  yet  because  the 
very  absence  of  what  looks  important, 
or  arduous,  is  likely  to  throw  him  off 
his  guard,  make  him  careless  or  confi- 
dent, and  thereby  almost  insure  defect 
or  defeat  1 

It  is  not,  comparatively,  hard  to  put 
the  armor  on  when  the  trumpet  sounds  ; 
but  it  is,  to  keep  the  armor  on  when 
there  is  no  alarm  of  battle.  I  am  not 
likely  to  forget  my  need  of  Divine  grace, 
and  to  fail  to  seek  it  by  diligent  prayer, 
when  I  am  summoned  to  some  unusual 
duty,  or  menaced  with  some  unusual 
danger ;  but  it  is  only  too  probable  that 
I  may  lapse  into  formality,  or  forget  my 
own  insufficiency,  when  there  is  simply 
what  is  of  every-day  occurrence  to  be 
either  done  or  endured.  He  who  would 
not  think  of  climbing  a  mountain  in  his 
own  strength,  may  think  of  passing  over 
a  stone.  It"  he  feel  that  he  must  be  borne 
up  by  angels  for  the  one,  he  may  fancy 
that  he  needs  no  such  help  for  the  other. 
And,  in  religion,  things  are  difficult,  not 
so  much  from  what  they  are  in  them- 
selves, as  from  the  likelihood  of  their 
being  attempted  in  a  self-sufficient  tem- 
per. That,  after  all,  is  the  most  ardu- 
ous duty,  which  involves  the  most  temp- 
tation to  our  undertaking  it.  without 
prayer.  At  least,  the  duty  in  which 
there  is  the  greatest  probability  of  fail- 
ure, is  that  in  which  there  is  the  greatest 
probability  of  our  making  sure  of  suc- 
cess. The  chief  danger  is  surely  not 
that,  which,  being  palpable  and  mena- 
cing, puts  us  on  our  guard,  and  makes 
us  array  our  defence ;  but  rather  that, 
which,  being  subtle  and  unobtrusive,  is 
likely  to  be  neglected,  or  met  without 
due  preparation. 

Understand,  therefore,  and  remember 
that  there  is  great  difficulty  in  little 
things.     Not  without  reason  are  angels 


Till     U'PFAR'NCE  OF  FAILURE. 


213 


represented  as  ministering  to  us  in  little 
things  :  supernatural  assistance  is  need- 
ful for  little  things  ;  I  do  not  say,  more 
so  than  for  great ;  but  the  want  of  it  is 
less  likely  to  be  felt ;  and  in  proportion 
as  the  want  is  less  felt,  the  supply  is  less 
likely  to  be  sought ;  and  the  stone  will 
be  a  worse  stumbling-block  to  the  man 
who  is  not  committing  his  way  unto  the 
Lord,  than  the  rock  to  another  whose 
every  step  is  with  prayer.  Remember 
that  daily  duties  and  dangers,  the  little 
unevennesses  which  may  ruffle  a  tem- 
per, the  petty  anxieties  of  common  life, 


I  the  exercises  of  Christian  principles  in 

trifles,  these  are  what  may  be  likened 
I  to  pebbles  in  the  path.  But  make  not 
I  light  of  them  because  they  are  as  peb- 
I  bles.     Ask  daily  grace  as  you  ask  daily 

bread.  Attempt  not  the  least  thing  in 
|  your  own  strength.     And  let   it  assure 

you  of  the  difficulty  of  what  is  little,  and 
j  of  your  consequent  need,  in  what  is  lit- 
I  tie,  of  the  might  of  the  Lord,  that  angels, 
j  the  highest  created   agencies,  have  the 

office  assigned  them  of  bearing  up  the 
i  righteous,  "  lest  at  any  time  they  hurt 
'  their  foot  against  a  stone." 


SERMON    X. 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


therefore  fear,  rest,  a  promise  being  left  us  of  entering  into  his  rest,  any  of  you  should  seem  to  come  short 
of  it."— Hebrews  iv.  1. 


It  is  a  great  principle  under  the  Chris- 
tian dispensation,  that  "none  of  us  liveth 
to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself." 
We  are  "members  one  of  another,"  so 
associated  by  intimate  and  indissoluble 
ties,  that  we  ought  never  to  consider  our 
actions  as  having  a  bearing  only  on  our- 
selves ;  we  should  rather  regard  them 
as  likely  to  affect  number's,  and  sure  to 
affect  some,  of  our  fellow  men,  to  affect 
them  in  their  eternal  interests,  and  not 
only  in  their  temporal. 

It  would  seem  to  be  upon  this  princi- 
ple that  St.  Paul  exhorts  Timothy  not 
to  be  "  partaker  of  other  men's  sins." 
The  setting  a  bad  example,  to  say  no- 
thing of  the  giving  bad  advice,  makes 
us  "  partakers  of  other  men's  sins  :  " 
other  men  may  take  lessons,  or  be  en- 
couraged in  sinning,  from  observing  what 
we  do  ;  and  thus  may  we  virtually  sin 
in  other  persons,  as  well  as  in  our  own  ; 
yea,  sin  after  death  as   well  as  through 


life,  leaving  successors  behind  us  whose 
sins  may,  in  great  measure,  and  with  tho- 
rough justice,  be  charged  upon  us  no 
less  than  on  themselves. 

It  is  upon  the  same  principle  that  we 
are  required  in  Scripture  to  consider 
what  may  be  expedient,  as  well  as  what 
may  be  lawful.  There  may  be  manv 
things  which  our  Christian  liberty  per- 
mits us  to  do  as  individuals,  but  from 
which  Christian  expediency  requires  us 
to  abstain,  as  members  of  a  Christian 
society.  Thus  St.  Paul  declares  that,  if 
meat  made  his  brother  to  offend,  he 
would  eat  no  meat  whilst  the  world 
stood,  lest  he  should  make  his  brother 
to  offend.  The  apostle  well  understood 
the  liberty  procured  for  him  by  Christ : 
he  says  distinctly,  "  I  know,  and  am 
persuaded  by  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there 
is  nothing  unclean  of  itself."  But, 
whilst  certified  that  "  all  things  were 
lawful  for  him,"  he  was  certified  also 


214 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


that  "  all  things  were  not  expedient  :  " 
he  felt  himself*  bound  to  consult  for  the 
good  of  those  weaker  brethren,  who, 
not  equally  enlightened  with  himself, 
might  have  been  staggered  by  his  do- 
ing things  which  they  were  not  them- 
selves prepared  to  do;  and  whilst,  had 
he  been  isolated  and  alone,  he  could 
have  partaken,  with  a  good  conscience, 
indifferently  of  all  kinds  of  food,  he 
deemed  it  right,  out  of  regard  to  the 
scruples  of  others,  to  put  restraints  upon 
his  liberty,  and  to  deny  himself  rather 
than  place  a  stumbling-block  in  the  way 
of  the  weak. 

We  have  again  the  same  principle, 
the  principle  that  membership  should 
influence  actions,  involved  in  a  precept 
of  St.  Paul  to  the  Thessalonians,  "  Ab- 
stain from  all  appearance  of  evil." 
There  is  not  necessarily  evil,  whereso- 
ever there  is  the  "  appearance  of  evil ;  " 
just  as  it  were  wrong  to  conclude  that 
all  which  looks  good  is  good.  Yet  the 
apostle  requires  us  to  abstain  from  the 
"  appearance  of  evil,"  as  well  as  from 
evil  itself.  Is  this  for  our  own  sake  1  is 
it  not  also,  if  not  altogether,  for  the  sake 
of  others  ?  No  doubt  our  own  interest 
is  concerned  in  the  abstaining  from 
the  "  appearance  of  evil,"  forasmuch  as 
there  is  always  great  danger  in  approach- 
ing the  limits  of  what  is  lawful :  they 
who  go  as  near  sinning  as  they  dare, 
often  go  much  nearer  than  they  sup- 
pose :  the  boundary  between  a  virtue 
and  its  opposite  vice  is  often  shaded  off 
so  gradually,  that  the  nicest  discrimina- 
tion would  be  puzzled  to  ascertain  where 
the  one  terminates  and  the  other  begins  ; 
so  that,  if  we  venture  into  the  misty  re- 
gion, in  place  of  remaining  where  there 
is  no  obscurity  or  debate,  no  wonder  if 
we  transgress  some  commandment 
which,  all  the  while,  we  may  believe  that 
we  keep.  Wherever  there  is  certainly 
the  "  appearance  of  evil,"  and  it  is 
doubtful  whether  there  is  not  also  evil 
itself,  we  seem  bound  by  the  laws  of 
Christian  prudence,  and  out  of  due  re- 
gard to  our  own  spiritual  safety,  to  act 
on  the  doubt,  and  abstain  from  the  ac- 
tion. The  soul  ought  never  to  be  peril- 
led on  a  chance  ;  and  he  who  loves  God 
in  sincerity,  will  always  prefer  the  de- 
nying himself  where  he  might  perhaps 
have  lawfully  indulged,  to  the  indulging 
himself  where  he  ought  perhaps  to  have 
denied. 


Hence  there  is  wide  scope  for  the 
precept  of  abstaining  from  "  all  appear- 
ance of  evil,"  supposing  it  to  have  re- 
spect to  ourselves  alone,  and  our  indi- 
vidual interests.  Yet,  nevertheless,  the 
chief  bearing  of  the  injunction  is  pro- 
bably on  the  interests  of  those  with 
whom  we  are  associated.  Even  if  we 
are  quite  satisfied  tharthere  is  only  the 
"  appearance  of  evil,"  and  no  evil  itself, 
the  precept,  you  see,  requires  our  absti- 
nence :  when  we  could  do  the  thing 
with  a  good  conscience,  without  the 
least  misgiving  as  to  its  being  thorough- 
ly lawful,  notwithstanding  any  aspect  to 
the  contrary,  we  are  still  warned  back 
from  the  action  ;  and  this  must  be  be- 
cause the  action  would  be  likely  to  give 
offence  to  others,  who  are  not  so  clear- 
sighted as  ourselves,  might  be  unable  to 
distinguish  between  the  "  appearance  of 
evil  "  and  evil  itself.  What  has  only 
the  appearance  to  me,  may  have  more 
than  the  appearance  to  another;  and  I 
am  as  much  bound  to  take  care  that  I 
wound  not  the  conscience  of  one  weaker 
than  myself,  as  that  I  do  no  violence  to 
the  dictates  of  mine  own. 

There  is  something  of  a  fine  sound 
in  advice  which  is  often  given,  "  Do 
what  you  know  to  be  right,  and  care  not 
what  others  may  think  ;"  but,  after  all, 
it  is  not  universally,  nor  peril aps  even 
generally,  good  and  Christian  advice 
A  Christian  should  consider  the  opinion 
of  his  fellow  Christians :  a  Christian 
should  have  regard  to  the  scruples  of 
his  fellow  Christians  :  indeed  he  should 
do,  without  hesitation,  whatsoever  he 
feels  to  be  right,  if  it  be  what  God's 
law  positively  requires  ;  all  consequen- 
ces are  to  be  dared,  rather  than  that 
God  be  disobeyed  ;  but  it  ought  not  to 
be  every  thing  to  him  that  his  own  con- 
science approves,  and  nothing  that  the 
consciences  of  others  may  be  grieved. 

And  thus  does  it  follow,  from  various 
passages  of  Scripture,  that  Christians 
are  so  bound  up  the  one  with  the  other, 
and  their  interests  so  interwoven,  that 
each  should  consider  himself  as  acting 
for  a  multitude,  and  the  individual  al- 
ways calculate  with  regard  to  the 
Church.  Ask  then  yourselves,  whether, 
as  Christians,  you  are  striving  to  act  on 
the  maxim  of  the  apostle,  "  Look  not 
every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every 
man  also  on  the  things  of  others." 

Be  not  engrossed  with  securing  your 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


215 


own  salvation ;  see  to  it  that  ye  be  not, 
at  the  same  time,  endangering  the  sal- 
vation of  others.  For  be  ye  well  assur- 
ed that  true  piety  is  an  enlarged  and  en- 
larging thing  :  it  holds  no  terms  with  sel- 
fishness, but  always  deals  with  it  as  with 
an  antagonist,  who  must  destroy  or  be 
destroyed.  If  it  be  one  great  test  of  the 
genuineness  of  religion,  Do  I  have  re- 
spect to  the  good  of  my  soul  in  the  va- 
rious plans  and  arrangements  of  life  1 
depend  upon  it  that  it  is  not  the  less  an 
accurate  criterion  by  which  to  try  the 
spiritual  state,  Do  I  think  of  what  will 
do  good  to  the  souls  of  others  ?  do  I 
aim  at  so  living  that  others  may  be  in- 
fluenced to  the  obeying  the  Gospel] 

Now  you  will  presently  see  why  we 
have  introduced  our  discourse  with 
these  remarks  on  Christians  as  being 
members  one  of  another,  and  therefore 
bound  to  have  respect,  in  all  their  ac- 
tions, to  the  possible  effects  on  their  fel- 
low Christians  as  well  as  on  themselves. 
In  the  chapter  preceding  that  which  is 
opened  by  our  text,  St.  Paul  had  been 
speaking  of  those  Israelites,  who  though 
delivered  by  Moses  from  Egypt,  never 
reached  the  promised  land,  but  perished, 
through  unbelief,  in  the  wilderness. 
From  this  the  apostle  took  occasion  to 
warn  Christians,  that  they  might  have 
made  some  progress  towards  Heaven, 
and  still  be  in  danger  of  missing  its  ] 
possession.  They  were  to  regard  the 
case  of  the  Israelites  as  but  too  possible 
an  illustration  of  what  might  be  their 
own  :  delivered  from  bondage,  brought 
into  the  right  way,  and  privileged  with 
heavenly  guidance,  they  might  yet, 
through  yielding  to  unbelief,  come  short 
of  that  glorious  land  whereof  the  Gos- 
pel had  conveyed  to  them  the  promise. 

And  if  this  had  been  the  whole  tenor 
of  our  text,  it  would  have  afforded  but 
little  place  for  commentary,  though  much 
for  private  and  personal  meditation. 
Had  the  apostle  exhorted  Christians  to 
feir  lest  any  of  them  should  come  short 
of  the,  promised  rest,  the  exhortation, 
however  valuable  and  important,  would 
hardly  have  required  the  being  illustra- 
ted or  explained ;  the  preacher's  only 
business  would  have  been  the  impress- 
ing it  in  its  simplicity  and  power  on  his 
hearers,  and  the  endeavoring  to  prevail 
on  them  to  examine  the  grounds  on 
which  they  might  be  hoping  for  admis- 
sion into  heaven.     But  you  will  observe 


that  St.  Paul  does  not  speak  of  "  coming 
short,"  but  of  "seeming  to  come  short," 
"  lest  any  of  you  should  seem  to  come 
short  of  it."  We  lay  the  emphasis  on 
the  word  "  seem,"  thinking  that  the 
stress  of  the  passage  is  here;  just  as, 
in  the  precept  on  which  we  before 
spoke,  "Abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil,"  the  warning  is  against  that  which 
"  seems  "  to  be  evil ;  Jt  necessarily  in- 
cludes whatsoever  both  is,  and  appears 
to  be,  evil,  but  it  includes  also  much 
which  only  appears  to  be,  without  actu- 
ally being. 

In  like  manner,  the  seeming  to  come 
short,  and  the  actually  coming  short,  are 
not  necessarily  the  same  ;  a  man  may 
have  the  appearance  of  failure,  and 
nevertheless  be  successful.  He  "  seems 
to  come  short "  of  the  promised  rest, 
who,  in  the  judgment  of  his  fellow-men, 
is  deficient  in  those  outward  evidences 
by  which  they  are  wont  to  try  the  genu- 
ineness of  religion.  But  surely,  all  the 
while,  he  may  not  actually  "  come 
short  :  "  human  judgment  is  fallible, 
and  can  in  no  case  be  guided  by  inspect- 
ing the  heart,  which  alone  can  furnish 
grounds  for  certain  decision  ;  and,  doubt- 
less, many  may  be  found  in  heaven  at 
last,  of  whose  entrance  thither  survivors 
could  entertain  nothing  more  than  a 
charitable  hope.  And  is  it  not  enough, 
if  we  do  not  "  come  short  1  "  why  should 
we  further  concern  ourselves  as  to  the 
not  "  seeming  to  come  short  1 "  We 
might  answer,  as  we  did  in  regard  of 
the  "  appearance  of  evil,"  that  it  is  a 
dangerous  thing  to  approach  danger. 
He  who  "  seems  to  come  short  "  must 
almost  necessarily  be  in  some  peril  of 
failure  ;  and  where  heaven  is  at  stake, 
no  wise  man,  if  he  could  help  it,  would 
run  the  least  risk.  Besides,  it  can  hard- 
ly be  that  he,  who  seems  to  others  to 
come  short,  should  possess  decisive  and 
scriptural  evidences  of  his  acceptance 
with  God.  He  may  indeed  know  him- 
self better  than  others  know  him  ;  nei- 
ther is  he  at  all  bound  to  accept  their 
judgment  as  determining  his  state  ;  but 
still,  as  others  decide  from  external  evi- 
dence, and  such  evidence  is  of  more 
weight  than  any  internal  persuasion,  it 
is  difficult  to  see  how  he,  who  seems  to 
others  to  come  short,  as  not  letting  his 
light  shine  brightly  before  men,  can  have 
a  well-founded  hope  that  he  is  not  coming 
short,  but  is    daily  pressing  "  towards 


216 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


the  mark  for  the  prize  of  his  high  call- 
ing in  Christ."  And  if  it  be  a  necessa- 
ry result  of  our  seeming  to  others  to 
come  short,  that  we  have  but  feeble  and 
darkened  evidences  of  our  being  made 
meet  for  the  kingdom,  indeed  there  is 
abundant  cause  for  the  fear  expressed 
in  the  text  :  he  who  can  be  content  to 
remain  in  doubt  when  he  might  have 
strung  hope,  almost  shows,  by  not  long- 
ing and  striving  for  clearer  proof,  that 
what  he  already  has  is  deceitful  and 
vain. 

But  whilst  there  may  thus  be  many 
reasons  given  why  we  should  fear  the 
seeming  to  come  short,  even  were  our 
personal  well-being  alone  to  be  consid- 
ered, the  full  force  of  the  text,  as  with 
that  which  enjoins  abstinence  from  the 
appearance  of  evil,  is  only  to  be  brought 
out  through  reference  to  our  being 
members  the  one  of  the  other.  We  shall, 
therefore,  take  the  passage  under  this 
point  of  view  through  the  remainder  of 
our  discourse.  In  other  words,  we  will 
examine  what  there  is,  in  an  appearance 
of  failure,  to  do  injury  to  the  cause  of 
Christianity,  and  therefore  to  justify  the 
apostle  in  so  emphatically  calling  upon 
you  to  fear,  "  lest,  a  promise  being  left 
us  of  entering  into  his  rest,  any  of  you 
should  seem  to  come  short  of  it.  " 

Now  as  there  are  undoubtedly  many 
ways  in  which  we  may  actually  come 
short,  so  must  there  be  many  in  which 
we  may  apparently  come  short  :  who 
can  tell  up  the  methods  in  which  the 
soul  may  be  lost  ]  neither  can  any  one 
enumerate  those  in  which  it  may  seem 
to  be  lost.  But  we  may  fix  on  certain 
of  the  more  prominent  appearances  of 
failure,  or,  rather,  on  certain  of  the  more 
prominent  reasons  which  may  give  others 
the  impression  that  a  Christian  comes 
short;  and  when  these  shall  have  been 
fairly  discussed  and  followed  out,  the 
general  subject  under  review  will  have 
been  so  far  made  clear,  that  every  one 
may  apprehend   any  particular  case. 

And  it  must,  we  think,  commend  it- 
self to  you  in  the  first  place,  that  none 
will  more  "seem  to  come  short,"  than 
those  whose  practice  is  in  any  way  in- 
consistent with  their  profession,  so  that 
lookers-on  can  decide  that  their  conduct 
is  not  strictly  accordant  with  the  princi- 
ples by  which  they  declare  themselves 
actuated.  This  is  the  first  great  case  on 
which   we  would  fasten-     We   are   far 


from  presuming  to  determine  the  amount 
of  inconsistency  which  might  be  taken 
in  proof  of  an  actual  coming  short  of  the 
promised  inheritance;  for  we  remem- 
ber, that,  whilst  perfection  is  that  at 
which  the  Christian  is  to  aim,  it  is  that 
which,  in  this  life,  he  may  not  hope  to 
reach  ;  and  compassed  as  he  is,  and 
must  be,  with  infirmity,  he  will  often  be 
betrayed  into  sin,  notwithstanding  that 
he  hates  it,  and  that  his  heart,  on  the 
whole,  is  right  with  his   God. 

But  we  are  not  now  concerned  with 
the  actual,  but  only  with  the  apparent 
coming  short ;  and  it  must  be  clear  that 
every  inconsistency  helps  to  the  making 
us  "  seem  to  come  short,"  however, 
through  the  being  repented  of  and  re- 
paired through  the  grace  of  God,  it  may 
leave  undamaged  our  spiritual  estate. 
He  who  professes  to  "  walk  in  the  light 
as  God  is  in  the  light,"  may  occasionally 
wander  into  dark  paths,  and  yet  be  mer- 
cifully restored ;  but  it  can  hardly  fail 
but  that  the  impression  produced  on 
observers,  especially  on  men  of  the 
world,  will  be  one  as  to  the  weakness 
of  his  principles,  or  a  want  of  power  in 
that  religion  which  professes  itself  ade- 
quate to  the  renewing  the  world.  And 
who  will  pretend  to  compute  the  amount 
of  damage  done  to  the  cause  of  vital 
Christianity  by  the  inconsistencies  of 
those  who  profess  themselves  subjected1 
to  its  laws,  and  animated  by  its  hopes  % 
The  heathen  has  adhered  to  his  idols, 
because  he  can  point  to  many  who  would 
invite  him  to  a  purer  worship,  but  ex- 
hibit not  a  purer  morality.  The  nominal 
Christian  has  been  strengthened  in  his 
dislike  and  ridicule  of  piety  of  the  heart, 
through  observing  that  those  supposed 
to  possess  it,  could  be  fretful,  malicious, 
covetous,  or  envious  ;  to  say  nothing  of 
more  flagrant  departures  from  conform- 
ity to  the  revealed  will  of  God.  It  was, 
as  you  will  remember,  on  such  account  as 
this,  that,  even  when  God  extended  for- 
giveness to  David,  who  had  grievously 
sinned,  He  inflicted  also  severe  punish- 
ment,— "because  by  this  deed  thou  hast 
given  great  occasion  to  the  enemies  of 
the  Lord  to  blaspheme,  the  child  also 
that  is  born  unto  thee  shall  surely  die." 
David  did  not  actually  "  come  short"  of 
the  promised  inheritance,  through  sin- 
ning so  heinously  against  the  Lord  ;  but 
David  "seemed  to  come  short;"  he 
would  have  come  short,  had  not  genuine 


THE  AFPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


217 


repentance  followed  on  grievous  trans- 
gression ;  but  there  was,  at  least,  all  the 
appearance  of  thorough  apostasy:  and 
this  appearance  gave  such  occasion  of 
blasphemy,  that,  in  vindication  of  the 
righteousness  of  his  government,  God 
had  to  inflict  judgment  at  the  same  time 
that  He  granted  pardon. 

But  if  fragrant  acts,  like  those  of  Da- 
vid, were  thus  fruitful  sources  of  blas- 
phemy to  the  enemies  of  the  Lord,  no 
doubt  acts  of  lesser  criminality,  the 
manifestations  of  undisciplined  tempers, 
the  utterances  of  unguarded  speech,  the 
inordinate  indulgences  of  appetite,  the 
adherences  of  the  affections  to  perish- 
able things,  all  work  their  measure  of 
effect  upon  men  who  are  on  the  watch 
for  some  charge  against  the  Gospel,  or 
for  some  excuse  for  resisting  its  claims  ; 
and  also  upon  others  who  may  be  halt- 
ing "  between  two  opinions,  "  at  a  loss 
whether  to  decide  for  God,  or  for  the 
world.  It  is  the  place  of  a  Christian  to 
be  as  a  city  set  on  a  hill  ;  but  "  a  city 
that  is  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid ;  "  and 
he  may  be  quite  sure,  from  the  very 
position  into  which  a  religious  profes- 
sion brings  him,  that  his  every  depart- 
ure from  the  high  standards  of  the  Gos- 
pel, his  every  failure  in  the  rigid  sub- 
jection of  himself  to  the  law  of  God,  as 
expanded  and  expounded  by  Christ, 
vfrll  serve  in  some  way  to  do  injury  to 
others  as  well  as  to  himself,  producing 
an  impression  unfavorable  to  the  worth 
and  power  of  piety,  whether  in  such  as 
are  glad  to  bring  godliness  into  contempt, 
or  in  others  who  seek  to  be  assured 
that  Christianity  can  make  good  its  pro- 
fessions and  promises. 

How  vast,  then,  the  importance  of 
not  even  "  seeming  to  come  short  !  " 
Who  will  think  it  enough  if  he  do  not 
actually  come  short,  and  pass  by  the  ap- 
pearance as  a  thing  of  no  moment  1 
What,  when  he  "  seems  to  come  short," 
in  whose  life  are  inconsistencies,  con- 
tradictions, failures  in  obedience,  and 
the  like,  which,  if  truly  repented  of, 
will  not  indeed  prevent  the  final  en- 
trance into  Heaven,  but  which  are  al- 
most sure  to  be  impediments  in  the  way 
of  many  others,  if  not  instrumental  to 
their  utter  exclusion  1  Is  this  nothing] 
is  this  little  1  nothing,  to  bring  reproach 
on  the  Gospel  1  little,  to  excite  preju- 
dice which  may  keep  men  from  Christ  ] 
Oh,  if  you  do   but  think  that  errors  and 


deviations,  of  which  you  are,  through 
Divine  grace,  enabled  yourselves  to 
escape  the  everlasting  penalties,  may 
confirm  opponents  in  their  oppositions, 
and  wanderers  in  their  wanderings  ; 
and  that  thus,  what  is  in  you  but  the  ap- 
pearance of  missing  heaven,  may  help 
to  the  actually  bringing  others  to  eternal 
perdition ;  it  cannot  be  that  hencefor- 
wards  you  will  care  only  for  what  is,  and 
nothing  for  what  may  seem  to  be,  your 
state  ;  you  will  enter  fully  and  practically 
into  the  fear  expressed  by  the  Apostle, 
"  lest,  a  promise  being  left  us  of  entering 
into  his  rest,  any  of  you  should  seem 
to  come  short  of  it." 

But  there  is  another,  if  a  less  obvious 
mode  of  "  seeming  to  come  short."  It 
should  be  observed,  that,  though  the 
Apostle,  when  speaking  of  rest,  must  be 
considered  as  referring  mainly  to  that 
rest  which  is  future,  there  is  a  degree, 
or  kind,  of  present  rest  which  is  attain- 
able by  the  Christain,  and  which  is  both 
the  type  and  foretaste  of  that  which  is 
to  come.  Thus  St.  Paul,  in  a  verse 
which  follows  almost  immediately  on 
our  text,  says  of  Christians,  "  We  which 
have  believed  do  enter  into  rest ; "  and 
afterwards,  "  He  that  is  entered  into 
his  rest,  he  also  hath  ceased  from  his 
own  works,  as  God  did  from  his,"  evi- 
dently making  the  entering  into  rest,  a 
present  thing,  as  well  as  a  future.  And 
undoubtedly,  if  he  lived  up  to  his  pri- 
vileges, there  is  a  present  rest  which 
the  Christian  might  enjoy.  Our  blessed 
Savior  bequeathed  peace,  his  own  peace, 
as  a  legacy  to  his  Church  ;  and  what 
Christ  entailed  on  us,  may  surely  be  en- 
joyed by  us.  Without  dwelling  on  what 
is  popularly  called  the  doctrine  of  per- 
sonal election,  and  which,  even  if  we 
were  to  allow  it  to  be  a  thoroughly 
Scriptural  doctrine,  can  give  well-found- 
ed comfort  to  no  one,  except  so  far  as 
he  is  using  "  all  diligence  to  make  his 
calling  and  election  sure,"  we  may  cer- 
tainly say  that  he  who  is  meekly  endea- 
voring to  obey  God's  will,  and  humbly 
relying  on  the  merit  and  mediation  of 
Christ,  ought  to  be  so  hopeful  of  final 
salvation  as  to  present  a  happy  deport- 
ment, in  the  midst  even  of  many  trials, 
and  in  spite  even  of  many  enemies. 
That  fears  will  sometimes  harass,  and 
doubts  cloud  his  mind,  this  is  perhaps 
unavoidable  ;  many  are  constitutionally 
timid  and  mistrustful :  and  it  is  not  aa 


218 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


much  observed  as  it  ought  to  be,  that 
conversion  does  not  profess  to  alter  the 
nervous  system,  and  that  this  system 
will  produce  symptoms  which  are  often 
anxiously  submitted  to  the  spiritual  ad- 
viser, when  they  really  come  more  pro- 
perly within  the  province  of  the  medical. 

But  when  every  just  allowance  has 
been  made  for  constitution  and  circum- 
stances, it  may  safely  be  affirmed  that 
the  general  deportment  of  the  believer 
should  be  that  of  serenity  and  hopeful- 
ness, the  deportment  of  one  who  has 
already  entered  into  rest,  though  not 
that  perfect  rest  which  yet  "  remaineth 
for  the  people  of  God."  The  reli- 
gion of  the  Bible  is  a  cheerful,  happy- 
making  religion  :  the  very  word 
"  Gospel  "  signifies  "  glad  tidings ;  "  and 
he  who  has  received  good  news  into  his 
heart,  may  justly  be  expected  to  exhibit 
in  his  demeanor,  if  not  much  of  the  rap- 
ture of  joy,  yet  something  of  the  quiet- 
ness of  peace.  But  it  is  in  this  that 
righteous  persons  are  often  grievously 
deficient;  nay,  they  perhaps  even  think 
that  it  becomes  them  to  go  always 
mourning,  and  that,  sinful  as  they  are, 
it  were  worse  than  presumption  in  them 
ever  to  be  cheerful.  Hence,  in  place  of 
struggling  with  doubts,  and  endeavoring 
to  extinguish  or  eject  them,  they  may 
be  said  actually  to  encourage  them,  as 
if  they  befitted  their  state,  and  either 
betokened,  or  cherished,  humility.  A 
great  mistake  this.  There  is  commonly 
more  of  pride  than  of  humility  in  doubts  ; 
he  who  is  always  doubting  is  generally 
searching  in  himself  for  some  ground  or 
reason  of  assurance  ;  whereas,  true, 
genuine  humility,  looks  wholly  out  of 
self,  not  as  forgetting  the  corruption 
which  is  there,  but  as  fastening  on  the 
sufficiency  which  is  in  Christ. 

But,  without  dissecting  more  narrow- 
ly the  character  of  the  always  doubting 
Christian,  we  cannot  hesitate  to  say  of 
him,  that  he  is  one  of  those  who  "  seem 
to  come  short."  If  a  present,  as  well  as 
a  future  rest,  be  promised  to  the  righ- 
teous— and  what  else  can  be  denoted  by 
such  words  as  these,  "  Thou  wilt  keep 
him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is 
stayed  on  thee  ?  "— certainly  he,  at  least, 
"  seems  to  come  short  "  of  that  rest, 
who  is  continually  the  prey  of  fear  and 
disquietude,  who  has  never  any  thing  to 
express  but  apprehensions  as  to  his  de- 
ceiving  himself,  or  who  wears  always 


the  appearance  of  one  ill  at  ease  in  re- 
gard of  his  spiritual  interests.  And 
without  denying  that  there  may  be  tho- 
rough safety  where  there  is  all  this 
seeming  insecurity,  we  are  bound  to  de- 
claim, that,  so  far  as  others  are  concern- 
ed, the  Christian,  who  thus  "  seems  to 
come  short,"  is  the  cause  of  great  injury. 
He  presents  religion  under  a  false  as- 
pect :  like  one  of  the  spies  of  old,  he 
brings  the  promised  land  into  disrepute, 
and  discourages  those  whose  business  it 
is  to  go  up  and  possess  it.  The  world 
is  disposed  enough  to  give  a  morose  and 
gloomy  character  to  godliness,  represent- 
ing it  as  the  opponent  of  all  cheerful- 
ness, and  as  requiring  that  we  surrender 
whatsoever  can  minister  to  happiness. 
We  tell  the  world,  in  reply,  that  it  does 
thus  but  libel  our  faith  ;  that  there  is 
nothing  deserving  the  name  of  happi- 
ness, save  with  those  who  have  devoted 
themselves  to  the  service  of  Christ  ;  and 
we  challenge  its  attractions  and  entice- 
ments to  put  themselves,  if  they  can, 
even  into  a  present  competition  with 
that  "  peace  of  God  which  passeth  al! 
understanding." 

But  what  are  we  to  say  to  the  world, 
when  its  appeal  lies  from  assertions  to 
facts  ]  when  it  can  point  out  religious 
persons  as  always  melancholy  and  de- 
sponding '?  Why  quote  to  us,  the  world 
will  urge,  the  exquisitely  beautiful  words, 
"  Come  unto  me,  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  1  will  give  you  rest," 
when  so  many,  who  are  looking  only  to 
Jesus  for  rest,  must,  at  least,  be  admitted 
to  "  seem  to  come  short  of  it  1  "  What 
indeed  is  to  be  said  to  the  world  1  God 
forbid  that  we  should  bear  hardly  on 
those  who  have  already  much  to  bear,  in 
the  burden  of  their  own  doubts,  mis- 
givings, and  fears.  But  I  question 
whether  Chi'istians  sufficiently  consider 
the  injury  which  they  may  do  to  the 
cause  of  the  Savior,  by  not  striving  to 
"  rejoice  in  the  Lord,"  and  to  display  in 
their  deportment  the  happy-making 
power  of  vital  religion.  I  question 
whether  they  sufficiently  feel  the  duty 
of  wrestling  with  those  doubts  which 
give  them  all  the  air  of  dispirited  and 
disconsolate  men — the  duty,  not  merely, 
and  not  even  chiefly,  because  doubts 
rob  them  of  comforts  which  God  gra- 
ciously intended  to  be  theirs  ;  but  be- 
cause doubts,  by  thus  throwing  over 
them  an  aspect  of  sadness  and  gloom, 


THE  APPEARANCE  OP  FAILURE. 


219 


misrepresent  piety,  either  causing  or 
strengthening  the  impression  that  God 
is  a  hard  task-master,  and  that,  in  keep- 
ing of  his  commandments,  there  is  little 
or  nothing  of  present  reward. 

It  could  hardly  fail  to  he  a  new  and 
strong  motive  with  religious  persons  to 
the  cultivating  cheerfulness  of  deport- 
ment, and  therefore  to  the  withstanding 
those  disheartening  fears,  which  they 
perhaps  think  even  wholesome,  as  keep- 
ing them  humble — just  as  though  a  firm 
confidence  of  acceptance  through  the 
cross  of  the  Redeemer  were  not  itself 
the  great  foe  of  pride — if  they  carefully 
remembered  that  others  will  judge  reli- 
gion by  its  apparent  effects,  and  that,  if 
they  see  it  produce  only  sadness,  they 
will  be  likely  to  shun  it  as  opposed  to 
all  joy.  A  gloomy  Christian  may  not 
be  always  always  able  to  help  his  gloom  ; 
but  he  should  lament  it,  and  strive  with 
it :  for  what  will  a  generous  leader  say 
of  a  soldier,  who  commissioned  to  enlist 
others  under  the  same  banner  with  him- 
self, makes  his  appearance  in  the  world 
as  aterrified  and  half-famished  prisoner] 
Oh  no  !  it  is  not  enough  that  ye  do  not 
come  short.  It  is  not  enough  that, 
through  darkness  and  doubt,  ye  struggle 
at  last  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Ye 
should  aim  at  something  higher  than 
this.  Ye  should  aim  at  adorning  the 
doctrine  of  the  Savior,  setting  it  off  to 
the  best  advantage,  recommending  it  to 
a  world  which  is  eager  in  the  pursuit  after 
happiness,  as  that  which  makes  good  the 
saying,  "  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  her  paths  are  peace."  And, 
therefore,  in  place  of  always  harboring 
and  indulging  other  fears,  fears  which, 
as  originating  in  a  sense  of  unworthi- 
ness,  should  be  met  with  the  truth  that 
it  was  for  the  unworthy  Jesus  died, 
let  the  fear  expressed  in  our  text 
be  henceforwards  constant  in  opera- 
tion, even  the  fear  "  lest,  a  promise 
being  .  left  us  of  entering  into  his 
rest,  any  of  you  should  seem  to  come 
short  of  it." 

But  now,  having  thus  illustrated  the 
text  from  inconsistency  of  conduct,  and 
from  the  harboring  of  doubts,  either  of 
which  will  cause  a  Christian  to  "  seem 
to  come  short,"  let  us  take  one  other 
case,  one  which  is  not  perhaps  indeed 
as  much  under  our  own  power,  but  one 
against  which  we  may  be  always  en- 
deavoring to  provide.     The  great  busi- 


ness of  life,  as  we  all  confess,  is  prepa- 
ration for  death.  And  a  Christian's 
hope,  a  Christian's  desire,  should  be  that 
he  may  be  enabled  to  meet  death  trium- 
phantly, putting  his  foot  on  the  neck  of 
the  last  enemy,  and  proving  that  Christ 
hath  despoiled  him  of  his  sting.  It 
should  not  content  him  that  he  may  pass 
in  safety  through  the  dark  valley,  though 
with  little  of  that  firm  sense  of  victory 
which  discovers  itself  in  the  exulting 
tone,  or  the  burning  vision.  This  in- 
deed is  much — oh !  that  we  might  be- 
lieve that  none,  now  present,  would 
have  less  than  this.  But,  in  having  only 
this,  a  Christian  may  "  seem  to  come 
short."  And  there  is  often  a  mighty 
discouragement  from  the  death-beds  of 
the  righteous,  when,  as  the  darkness 
thickens,  and  the  strength  declines, 
there  is  apparently  but  little  consolation 
from  the  prospect  of  eternity.  Even 
as,  on  the  other  hand,  when  a  righteous 
man  is  enabled  to  meet  death  exulting- 
ly,  as  though  he  had  but  to  step  into  the 
car  of  fire,  and  be  wafted  almost  visibly 
to  the  heavenly  city,  there  is  diffused 
over  a  neighborhood  a  sort  of  animating 
influence ;  the  tidings  of  the  victory 
spread  rapidly  from  house  to  house  : 
the  boldness  of  infidelity  quails  before 
them  ;  meek  piety  takes  new  courage, 
and  attempts  new  toils. 

And  it  ought  not,  therefore,  to  satisfy 
us  that  we  may  so  die  as  not  to  come 
short  of  heaven  :  we  ought  to  labor  that 
we  may  so  die  as  not  even  to  "  seem  to 
come  short  of  it."  It  is  doubly  dying, 
if,  in  dying,  we  work  an  injury  to  our 
brethren ;  it  is  scarcely  dying,  if  we 
strengthen  them  for  their  departure  out 
of  life.  This  is,  in  its  measure,  the 
doing  what  was  done  by  the  Redeemer 
Himself,  who,  "  through  death,  destroy- 
ed him  that  had  the  power  of  death  :" 
the  believer,  as  he  enters  the  grave, 
deals  a  blow  at  the  tyrant,  which  ren- 
ders him  less  terrible  to  those  who  have 
yet  to  meet  him  in  the  final  encounter. 
And  by  continued  preparation  for  death, 
by  accustoming  ourselves  to  the  antici- 
pation of  death,  by  the  striving  always  so 
to  live  that  death  may  not  take  us  by 
surprise,  but  that,  having  the  loins  girt, 
the  lamps  trimmed,  and  the  lights  burn- 
ing, we  may  be  as  men  expecting  the 
bridegroom,  we  may  indeed  hope  to  be 
so  ready,  through  God's  help,  for  the  act 
of  departure,  that  our  passage  through 


220 


THE  APPEARANCE  OF  FAILURE. 


the  valley  shall  be  rather  with  the  tread 
of  the  conqueror,  than  with  the  painful 
step  of  the  timid  pilgrim. 

It  is  true  that  we  have  not  power 
over  the  circumstances  of  our  death  ; 
that  we  cannot  insure  ourselves  a  tri- 
umphant death  ;  and  that  God,  for  wise 
ends,  may  often  be  pleased,  in  removing 
his  people  from  earth,  to  withhold  from 
them  those  glimpses  of  things  within 
the  vail,  which,  whenever  vouchsafed, 
seem  to  light  up  a  sick  room,  as  though 
angels,  with  their  bright  wings,  were 
visibly  present.  But  perhaps  it  may  be 
generally  true,  that  they  who  have  made 
it  their  aim  that  they  might  not  "  seem 
to  come  short  "  during  life,  are  not  per- 
mitted to  "  seem  to  come  short "  in 
death.  He  who  lives  most  consistently 
is  perhaps  commonly  enabled  to  die 
most  triumphantly.  He  who  is  most 
earnest  in  scattering  those  doubts  which 
are  dishonoring  to  the  Savior,  harassing 
to  himself,  and  injurious  to  the  Church, 
will  find  the  termination  of  his  earthly 
path  haunted  with  fewest  of  those  dark 
and  spectral  things,  which  agitate  a  be- 
liever, even  though  he  feel  that  his  Re- 
deemer is  near. 

See,  then,  a  new  motive  to  the  striving 
so  to  live  that  you  may  not  "  seem  to  come 
short,"  whether  of  the  practice  or  the 
privilege  of  true  followers  of  Christ.  It 
is  thus  that  you  may  have  reason  to 
hope  that  you  shall  not  "  seem  to  come 
short"  when  you  die.  And  again  we 
say,  think  not  little  of  this.  I  have  be- 
fore me  two  pictures  ;  come  and  gaze, 
and  then  think  it  little  if  you  can.  I 
see  a  Christian  stretched  on  his  death- 
bed, patient  indeed,  and  hearkening 
eagerly  to  the  words  of  those  who  stand 
round,  and  who  are  speaking  to  him  of 
that  "  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away 
the   sin  of  the    world."     But  there    is 


little  of  hopefulness  in  his  look,  and  as 
little  in  his  language.  "  O  my  friends  " 
— these  are  his  struggling  utterances — 
"  it  is  an  awful  thing  to  die.  I  trust 
that  the  Savior  in  whom  I  have  believed 
will  not  desert  me  in  this  sad  extremity  ; 
but  there  is  much  of  darkness  on  my 
mind,  now  that  I  most  need  the  cheer- 
ing light."  The  weeping'  relatives  are 
not  dismayed  by  these  words  ;  for  they 
have  reason  to  be  assured  of  the  piety 
of  the  dying  man  ;  but  they  feel  more 
and  more  the  tremendousness  of  death, 
and,  in  their  broken  whisperings  one  to 
another,  they  say,  Alas  for  ourselves, 
when  even  this  our  brother  "  seems  to 
come  short." 

But  I  see  another  Christian  meeting 
death.  His  look  is  that  of  one  who  al- 
ready has  his  hand  on  an  incorruptible 
crown.  His  voice,  weakened  indeed  by 
approaching  dissolution,  gives  forth  the 
tones  of  confidence  and  exultation. 
"  Sorrow  not  for  me,  my  beloved  ones. 
With  Stephen,  I  see  Jesus  at  the  right 
hand  of  God.  With  Job,  '  I  know  that 
my  Redeemeth  liveth.'  I  am  safe  in 
the  good  Shepherd's  keeping  :  yet  an- 
other struggle,  and  I  am  with  Him  for 
ever  in  the  rich  pastures  above." 

Ah  !  how  do  these  words  encourage 
survivors.  They  go  forth  like  men 
armed  anew  for  duty  and  trial.  They 
tell  the  scene  to  others.  The  whole 
Church  rallies  round  the  grave,  and 
takes  fresh  courage.  The  dead  man, 
who  thus  visibly  conquered,  is  like 
Elisha  in  the  sepulchre — to  touch  his 
bones  is  to  gain  new  life.  Ah  !  look 
upon  this  ;  and  will  you  not  hencefor- 
wards  live  as  those  who  fear,  "  lest,  a 
promise  being  left  us  of  entering  into 
his  rest,  any  of  you,"  at  the  last,  "  should 
seem  to  come  short  of  it  1  " 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


221 


SERMON    XI 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


"  And  as  they  came  out,  they  found 


man  of  Cyrene,  Simon  by 
Matthew  xxvii.  3; 


lira  they  compelled  to  bear  his  cross."-  • 


This  fact  is  also  recorded,  and  almost 
in  the  same  terms,  by  St.  Mark  and  St. 
Luke ;  and  we  may  think  that  three 
evangelists  would  scarcely  have  all  in- 
serted it  in  their  narratives,  had  it  not 
deserved  more  attention  than  it  seems 
ordinarily  to  receive.  The  circumstance 
is  not  noticed  by  St,  John,  whose  object 
was  rather  to  supply  deficiencies  in  for- 
mer gospels,  than  to  repeat  their  state- 
ments. But  St.  John  enables  us  better 
to  understand  the  laying  the  cross  upon 
Simon  :  for  we  could  not  determine  from 
the  three  first  evangelists  whether  or 
not  it  had  been  first  laid  upon  Christ. 
This  is  an  important  point,  as  you  will 
afterwards  see  :  we  could  gather  little 
or  nothing  from  the  fact  that  Simon  was 
made  to  carry  the  cross,  if  we  were  not 
sure  that  it  was  first  carried  by  Christ. 
But  this  is  not  affirmed  either  by  St. 
Matthew,  St.  Mark,  or  St.  Luke.  These 
evangelists  merely  mention  that  the  sol- 
diers, as  they  led  away  Jesus  to  crucify 
Him,  met  with  Simon  the  Cyrenian, 
and  compelled  him  to  be  the  cross-bear- 
er :  but  whatever  we  might  have  con- 
jectured, or  whatever  we  might  have 
concluded  from  the  usual  practice  of  the 
Romans,  we  could  not  have  been  confi- 
dent from  this,  that  Christ  had  borne  his 
cross  till  it  was   thus  laid  upon  another. 

But  St.  John,  omitting  all  notice  of 
Simon,  expressly  says  of  our  Lord,  "  He, 
bearing  his  cross,  went  forth  into  a  place, 
called  the  place  of  a  skull."  This  is  a 
beautiful  instance  of  the  nicety  with 
which  the  fourth  evangelist  may  be  said 
to  have  observed  what  was  wanting  in 
the  other  three  :  he  fills  up,  so  to  speak, 
a  crevice,  or  puts  in  a  link,  so  as  to  com- 


plete a  narrative,  or  unite  its  scattered 
parts. 

Combining  the  accounts  of  the  sever- 
al historians,  we  now  know  that  when 
our  Lord  was  given  up  by  Pilate  to  the 
will  of  his  enemies,  the  soldiers,  as  was 
the  ordinary  practice  in  regard  of  those 
sentenced  to  crucifixion,  laid  upon  Him 
the  cross  whereon  He  was  to  die.  After 
He  had  earned  it  a  certain  distance, 
the  soldiers,  for  one  reason  or  another, 
took  it  from  Him,  and  placed  it  on  a 
Cyrenian  whom  they  happened  to  meet ; 
and  this  Simon  bore  it  to  Calvary.  We 
have  no  certain  information  as  to  who 
Simon  was,  whether  or  not  a  disciple 
of  Christ.  He  is  mentioned  by  St.  Mark 
as  "  the  father  of  Alexander  and  Rufus  :  " 
but  though  this  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  he  and  his  family  were  well  known 
at  the  time,  it  does  not  help  us  to  de- 
termine particulars.  The  probability 
would  seem  to  be,  that  he  was  at  least 
disposed  to  favor  Christ,  and  that  this 
•Iris  disposition  was  matter  of  notoriety — 
nothing  is  more  likely  than  that  it  was 
on  account  of  his  attachment  to  Jesus, 
and  for  the  sake  therefore  of  exposing 
him  to  public  ridicule,  that  the  soldiers 
i  compelled  him  to  carry  the  cross. 

But  allowing  the  probability  that  he 
was  known  to  favor  the  cause  of  Christ, 
we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  whe- 
ther he  were  a  Jew  or  a  Gentile  :  for 
ecclesiastical  history  furnishes  nothing 
respecting  him  beyond  what  is  furnish- 
ed by  the  evangelists.  In  the  book  in- 
deed of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  where 
the  prophets  and  teachers  in  the  Church 
of  Antioch  are  enumerated,  we  have 
mention   of  "  Simeon    that    was    called 


222 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


Niger;  "  and  many  have  imagined  that 
this  might  he  "Simon  the  Cyrenian  " — 
the  surname  Niger,  or  black,  being 
thought  to  accord  with  the  birthplace  ; 
for  Cyrene  was  a  city  and  province  of 
Libya  in  Africa.  If  this  identity  were 
determined,  there  would  be  no  doubt  as 
to  Simon's  having  been  a  Jew  :  but  it 
is  merely  the  resemblance  in  name  which 
has  led  to  the  supposition  ;  and  even 
this  resemblance  is  insufficient  to  sup- 
port any  theory  ;  for  the  same  Evange- 
list speaks  of  Simon  the  Cyrenian,  and 
of  Simeon,  called  Niger.  We  must 
therefore  be  content  to  remain  ignorant 
in  regard  of  the  individual  who  bore  the 
cross  of  Christ ;  and  we  may  find  that 
this  ignorance  will  not  interfere  with  the 
lessons  to  be  drawn  from  the  occurrence. 
The  occurrence  itself,  as  we  have  al- 
ready intimated,  is  one  which  may  be 
easily  overlooked,  but  which  perhaps 
only  requires  to  be  carefully  considered 
in  order  to  the  being  found  full  of  in- 
terest unci  instruction.  Let  us  then  join 
ourselves  to  the  multitude  who  are 
thronging  round  Jesus,  as,  with  slow 
and  fainting  steps,  He  toils  towards 
Calvary.  There  is  a  moment's  pause  : 
an  individual  is  met,  coming  out  of  the 
country  :  the  attendant  soldiers  seize 
him,  and  compel  him  to  bear  the  cross 
which  the  Redeemer  had  hitherto  car- 
ried. This  is  the  incident  which  we  are 
to  ponder  :  we  will  go  no  further  with 
the  infuriated  crowd  ;  but,  sitting  down, 
will  examine  what  truths  and  lessons 
may  be  derived  from  what  has  just  been 
observed,  namely,  that  "  as  they  came 
out,  they  found  a  man  of  Cyrene,  Simon 
by  name  :  him  they  compelled  to  bear 
his' cross." 

Now  it  is  very  interesting  to  remark 
how  the  accomplishment  of  ancient  pro- 
phecy seems  often  to  have  hung  upon  a 
thread,  so  that  the  least  thing,  a  thought 
or  a  word,  might  have  sufficed  to  pre- 
vent its  occurrence.  There  are  many 
predictions  in  reference  to  Christ,  which 
could  only  be  fulfilled  by  his  enemies, 
and  of  which  we  might  have  expected 
that  these  enemies,  anxious  to  disprove 
his  claims,  would  have  been  too  shrewd 
to  help  the  accomplishment.  The  mar- 
vel is,  that  these  enemies  were  not  more 
on  the  alert ;  that  they  should  have  done, 
or  allowed  things  which,  on  a  moment's 
consideration,  they  might  have  seen  to 
be  evidences  that  Jesus    was    Messiah. 


One  would  have  expected  that,  with 
prophecies  in  their  hands  which  they 
themselves  applied  to  the  Christ,  they 
would  have  taken  pains  to  prevent,  so 
far  as  possible,  their  apparent  fulfilment 
in  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  And  yet,  as  if 
judicially  blinded,  they  themselves 
brought  about  the  fulfilment,  and  that, 
too,  in  cases  where  prevention  seemed 
quite  in  their  power.  Did  they  not 
know  what  Zechariah  had  predicted  iu 
reference  to  the  price  at  which  Christ 
would  be  sold  1  and  yet  they  sold  Jesus 
for  the  very  sum  ;  a  thought  only  being 
wanting,  and  one  piece  of  money  might 
have  been  added  or  taken  off,  and  thus 
a  noted  prophecy  have  failed  of  accom- 
plishment in  Him  whom  they  crucified. 
Thus  again,  how  easy  it  would  have 
been — and  for  men  who  were  seeking  to 
disprove  the  pretensions  of  Jesus,  how 
natural — to  take  care  that  vinegar  and 
gall  should  not  be  given  Him  on  tho 
cross,  and  that  the  soldiers  should  not 
part  his  garments  amongst  them,  not 
cast  lots  upon  his  vesture.  There  would 
have  been  no  difficulty,  in  these  and 
other  similar  respects,  in  hindering  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy  :  and  the  wonder 
is,  that  men,  familiar  with  prophecy,  ac- 
customed to  apply  it  to  the  Messiah,  and 
eager  at  the  same  time  to  prove  that 
Jesus  was  not  the  Messiah,  should  have 
either  effected  or  permitted  the  fulfil- 
ment, thus  completing  the  evidence, 
which  they  had  full  power,  as  it  seemed, 
to  weaken  or  mutilate. 

It  is  a  striking  proof  of  the  thorough 
certainty  with  which  God  can  reckon  on 
every  working  of  the  human  mind,  that 
He  should  thus  have  put  it  into  the 
power  of  the  bitter  enemies  of  Jesus  to 
arrest  the  fulfilment  of  prophecies.  He 
could  so  shape  predictions  that  a  single 
thought,  and  that  the  thought  most  likely 
to  arise,  would  be  enough  to  prevent 
their  being  accomplished  in  his  Son  ; 
and  yet  be  as  sure  that  every  tittle  would 
come  accurately  to  pass,  as  if  He  had 
ordered  it  by  a  decree  as  abiding  as 
Himself.  It  is  not  that  God  interfered, 
by  any  direct  influence,  to  make  men 
act  as  He  had  foretold  that  they  would — 
for  this  would  be  to  suppose  Him  par- 
taker in  their  wickedness,  accomplishing 
as  well  as  predicting.  He  left  the  ene- 
mies of  Christ  to  themselves,  quite  at 
liberty  to  take  their  own  course  •  but 
his  prescience   assured  Him  what  that 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


223 


course  would  be  ;  and,  acting  simply  on 
his  foreknowledge,  He  could  place  a 
prophecy  within  a  hair-breadth,  as  we 
think,  of  being  defeated,  whilst  its  ful- 
filment was  as  certain  as  though  it  had 
occurred. 

And  we  consider  that  we  have  in  the 
narrative  now  under  review  an  instance 
of  prophecy  thus  accomplished,  when  it 
seemed  within  an  ace  of  being  unfulfil- 
led. There  is  no  more  illustrious  type 
of  the  Redeemer,  presented  in  sacrifice 
to  God,  than  Isaac,  whom,  at  the  Divine 
command,  his  father  Abraham  prepared 
to  offer  on  Moriah.  We  have  every  rea- 
son for  supposing  that,  in  and  through 
this  typical  oblation,  God  instructed  the 
patriarch  in  the  great  truth  of  human 
redemption;  so  that  it  was  as  he  stood 
by  the  altar,  and  lifted  up  his  knife  to 
slay  his  son,  that  Abraham  discerned  the 
shillings  of  Christ's  day,  and  rejoiced  in 
the  knowledge  of  a  propitiation  for  sin. 
And  whatever  the  measure  in  which 
Abraham  was  instructed  as  to  the  figu- 
rative meaning  of  the  offering  up  of 
Isaac,  there  can  be  no  doubt  with  our- 
selves that,  herein  was  accurately  por- 
trayed the  sacrifice  of  Christ — the  sa- 
crifice presented,  in  the  fulness  of  time, 
on  the  very  spot  where  Abraham  was 
directed  to  immolate  his  son. 

But  it  is  among  the  most  significant, 
perhaps,  and  certainly  the  most  affect- 
ing, parts  of  the  typical  transaction,  that 
Isaac  was  made  to  carry  the  wood  on 
which  he  was  to  be  presented  in  sacri- 
fice to  God.  We  read  that  "  Abraham 
took  the  wood  of  the  burnt-offering,  and 
laid  it  upon  Isaac  his  son."  Are  we  to 
think  that  this  was  done  without  expli- 
cit direction  from  God  1  It  is  hardly 
credible.  Abraham,  full  of  tenderness 
towards  Isaac,  his  whole  soul  yearning 
over  the  son  of  his  love,  and  agonized 
by  the  command  which  he  was  hasten- 
ing to  obey,  would  not  have  laid  the 
heavy  burden  on  the  lad,  unless  in  con- 
formity with  an  injunction  from  God. 
Of  Abraham  we  are  told,  that  he  "  took 
the  fire  in  his  hand,  and  a  knife."  So 
'  that  the  patriarch  had  nothing  but  what 
was  light  to  cany  :  the  only  burdensome 
thing — and  it  must  have  been  burden- 
some, if  there  were  wood  enough  for 
such  a  burnt-offering  as  Abraham  ex- 
pected— was  bound  upon  the  child  ;  in- 
credible, we  may  say,  had  the  father  been 
left   to    himself:  for    the  consciousness 


that  he  must  soon  pierce  the  heart  of 
his  son,  would  only  make  him  more  ten- 
der and  affectionate  till  the  fatal  mo- 
ment came.  We  take  it  therefore  as 
expressly  ordered  by  God,  that  the  wood 
of  the  burnt-offering  should  be  laid  upon 
Isaac:  it  was  a  part  of  the  type  :  and, 
taking  the  type  as  a  prophecy,  we  might 
justly  speak  of  a  flaw  in  the  fulfilment, 
were  there  nothing  that  answered  to  it 
in  the  oblation  of  Christ.  And  to  those 
who  knew  nothing  of  the  exact  mode 
in  which  Christ  was  to  suffer,  this  might 
have  seemed  one  of  the  obscurest  por- 
tions of  the  type  :  how  the  sacrifice  could 
carry  the  wood  on  which  he  was  to  die, 
was  a  question  that  could  hardly  be  an- 
swered, until  it  was  known  that  the 
death  would  be  the  death  of  the  cross. 

But  the  type  was  thoroughly  fulfilled 
in  this  singular  particular,  when  our 
Lord  was  led  forth,  carrying  his  cross. 
This  was,  to  the  letter,  Isaac,  bearing 
the  wood  for  the  burnt-offering.  Yet 
how  near  was  the  prophecy  to  the  being 
defeated  !  It  was  only  for  a  part  of  the 
way  that  Christ  carried  the  cross.  The 
soldiers  then  took  it  from  Him,  and 
placed  it  on  another.  And  they  might 
at  the  first  have  seized  on  some  bystand- 
er and  given  him  the  burden.  It  could 
not  have  been  indispensable  that  Christ 
should  bear  it  Himself:  for,  on  such 
supposition,  they  would  hardly  have 
transferred  the  load.  And  if  any  of 
the  Pharisees  or  scribes,  remembering 
the  typical  history  of  Isaac,  and  deter- 
mining that  it  should  not  foreshadow 
that  of  Jesus,  had  suggested  to  the  sol- 
diery, perhaps  with  affected  compassion, 
that  it  might  be  as  well  to  lay  the  cross 
on  another,  it  is  probable  enough  that 
they  would  have  acted  on  the  sugges- 
tion, and  done  that  at  first  which  they 
were  ready  to  do  after  a  little  delay. 
So  near  may  the  type  have  been  to  the 
being  unfulfilled  ;  so  little  may  have  been 
wanting  to  prevent  the  accomplishment 
of  a  signal  prediction.  But  God,  who 
could  speak  through  his  servant  Zecha- 
riah  of  thirty  pieces  of  silver  as  the 
price  of  the  Messiah,  and  be  confident 
that  a  prophecy,  which  He  made  it  easy 
to  defeat,  would  be  fulfilled  to  the  very 
letter,  could  command  also  the  wood  to 
be  bound  upon  Isaac,  and  know  that, 
notwithstanding  the  palpable  character 
of  the  type,  the  cross  would  be  bound 
upon  Christ. 


224 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


And  this  is  the  first  reflection  which 
we  have  to  make,  as  we  see  that  Simon 
the  Cyreirian  is  constrained  to  carry  the 
cross  after  Christ.  Had  we  met  the 
procession  when  a  little  further  ad- 
vanced, we  might  have  said,  This  suf- 
fering man,  who  is  led  forth  to  death, 
cannot  possibly  be  Messiah,  the  antitype 
to  Isaac  ;  for  he  does  not  bear  the  wood 
on  which  He  is  to  die.  But  now  we 
have  beheld  the  transfer  of  the  cross  : 
we  know  that  it  was  not  laid  upon  Si- 
mon, until  it  had  been  carried  by  Christ, 
until,  that  is,  the  type  had  been  fulfilled, 
and  Isaac  had  reappeared  in  a  greater 
than  himself.  And  it  is  the  transfer  of 
the  cross  which  makes  so  remarkable 
the  fulfilment  of  the  type.  Had  Christ 
borne  the  cross  to  the  end,  we  might 
have  thought  it  a  matter  of  course  that 
the  type  should  be  fulfilled,  regarding 
the  fulfilment  as  assured  by  the  known 
customs  of  a  Roman  execution.  But 
the  fulfilment  is  here  in  jeopardy;  it 
it  lasted  only  a  portion  of  the  time ;  it 
might  therefore  have  not  occurred  at 
all  :  caprice  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers, 
or  design  upon  that  of  the  scribes,  might 
have  entirely  prevented  it.  And  I  seem 
to  have  before  me  a  beautiful  evidence 
how  the  fore  knowledge  of  God  can  as- 
sure Him  of  the  minutest  particulars,  of 
every  turn  of  human  thought,  of  every 
motion  of  the  human  will,  when  I  find 
that  Jesus  did  indeed  come  forth  bear- 
ing his  cross,  and  therefore  accomplish- 
ing an  illustrious  prediction,  but  that 
shortly  afterwai'ds,  in  the  course,  for 
aught  I  know,  of  a  very  few  minutes, 
the  soldiers  laid  hold  on  one  Simon,  a 
Cyrenian,  and  compelled  him  to  carry 
the  cross  after  Christ. 

But  what  induced  the  fierce  and  bru- 
tal soldiers  to  grant  the  Redeemer  this 
little  indulgence,  and  relieve  Him  for  a 
time  from  the  burden  of  the  cross  1  We 
have  already  supposed  that  Simon  the 
Cyrenian  was  laid  hold  of,  on  account 
of  his  being  known  to  favor  Christ's 
cause,  and  partly,  therefore,  with  the 
design  of  exposing  him  to  ridicule.  But 
it  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  this  was  the 
only,  nor  even  the  chief,  reason.  Had 
not  the  condition  of  Christ  been  such  as 
to  suggest,  in  some  sense,  the  necessity 
of  relieving  Him  of  the  load,  we  can 
hardly  think  that  the  cross  would  have 
been  removed.  It  may  have  been  that 
even  the  soldiers  were  moved  to  some 


thing  like  pity,  as  they  saw  the  Redeem- 
er tottering  beneath  the  weight.  It  may 
have  been  that  they  feared,  that,  if  they 
now  goaded  on  the  innocent  sufferer, 
death  would  ensue  before  they  reach- 
ed the  place  of  execution,  and  rob 
them  of  their  victim.  Or  it  may  have 
been  that  those  who  were  eager  to  cru- 
cify the  Savior  were  impatient  of  delay; 
his  feeble  steps  were  too  slow  for  their 
malice  ;  and  they  urged  the  removal  of 
the  cross,  that  they  might  accelerate  the 
time  of  his  being  fastened  to  it  with  the 
nails. 

But  in  any  case,  it  must  have  been 
the  exhausted  condition  of  our  Lord 
which  gave  occasion  to  the  removal  of 
the  cross :  it  was  transferred  to  Simon, 
because,  to  all  appearance,  Christ  was 
unable  to  bear  it  to  Calvary.  And  this 
is  just  that  incidental  notice  which  sup- 
plies the  place  of  lengthened  narrative, 
and  lets  us  in,  as  it  were,  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  Mediator's  endurances.  You 
cannot  fail  to  be  struck,  when  you  read 
the  accounts  of  the  crucifixion,  with  the 
utter  absence  of  those  expressions  of 
pain,  or  assertions  of  suffering,  which 
abound  in  mere  human  histories  of  some 
tragic  occurrence.  If  you  except  that 
most  thrilling  exclamation,  "My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?  "  there 
is  nothing  whatsoever  uttered  by  the  suf- 
fering Redeemer,  from  which  you  can 
conclude  that  He  suffered  at  all.  And  even 
this  exclamation  indicated  mental,  rather 
than  bodily  anguish :  the  deep  and  piteous 
cry  was  wrung  from  Christ,  not  by  the 
tortures  of  crucifixion,  but  by  the  hiding, 
the  eclipse,  of  the  countenance  of  his 
Father.  Indeed,  it  is  also  recorded  by 
St.  John,  that  Jesus,  as  He  hung  on  the 
cross,  exclaimed,  "  I  thirst ;"  and  this 
may  be  taken  as  an  expression  of  cor- 
poreal suffering.  But  it  is  very  observ- 
able, that  the  Evangelist  distinctly  states 
that  Jesus  said  this,  in  order  "  that  the 
Scripture  might  be  fulfilled,"  for  the 
sake  of  effecting  the  accomplishment  of 
the  prediction,  "  And  in  my  thirst  they 
gave  me  vinegar  to  drink."  It  seems 
implied  by  St.  John,  that  Christ  would 
have  said  jthing  as  to  his  thirst,  had 
He  not  remembered  a  prophecy  which 
was  yet  unaccomplished,  so  that  the  ex- 
clamation is  hardly  to  be  given  in  proof 
of  the  greatness  of  bodily  anguish. 

And  it  might  not  be  very  difficult  to 
arrange  something  like  a  plausible  theo- 


SIMON"  THE  CYUENIAN. 


2  2Z 


ry  that  the  Redeemer  was  incapable  of 
suffering  in  the  body  :  for  it  is  evident 
enough  that  He  did  not  die  through  any 
extremity  of  nature ;  He  was  not  ex- 
hausted, but  voluntarily  breathed  out 
his  soul  :  and  when  you  add  this  to  the 
fact,  that  not  a  word  escaped  Him  from 
which  we  can  certainly  gather  that  He 
suffered  in  the  flesh,  there  might  cer- 
tainly seem  some  ground  for  supposing, 
that,  though  He  bore  a  human  form, 
He  was  not  accessible  to  human  pain. 
And  we  need  not  stay  to  show  you  how 
fatal  such  a  supposition  would  be  to  the 
whole  Christian  system  :  for  you  all 
know,  that,  had  not  Christ  been,  in  the 
strictest  sense,  a  man,  a  man  like  one  of 
ourselves,  sin  only  excepted,  He  could 
not  have  acted  as  our  surety  in  turning 
away  from  us  the  anger  of  God.  But  a 
man  like  one  of  ourselves  He.  could  not 
have  been,  unless,  like  one  of  ourselves, 
He  had  been  accessible  to  pain,  so  as 
to  feel,  and  to  suffer  keenly  in  feeling, 
the  scourging,  and  the  buffeting,  and 
the  driving  of  the  nails.  It  seems  there- 
fore as  if  it  would  be  inexpressibly 
valuable  to  us,  were  it  only  recorded 
that  He  groaned  or  sighed  when  sub- 
mitting to  the  fearful  processes  of  cru- 
cifixion. Had  but  the  least  sign  of  an- 
guish escaped  Him — of  bodily  anguish  ; 
for  mental  is  quite  another  thing  ;  He 
evinced  this  in  the  garden  as  well  as  on 
the  cross  ;  but  it  was  purely  mental,  and 
proved  nothing  as  to  his  flesh ; — had 
then  the  least  sign  of  bodily  anguish  es- 
caped Him,  a  look,  a  cry,  a  convulsive 
start,  and  had  it  been  mentioned  by  Evan- 
gelists, it  would  have  served  to  identify 
the  Redeemer  with  ourselves,  and  to 
make  us  feel  that  he  was  indeed  "  bone 
of  our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh." 
But  a  crucifixion  without  the  slightest 
manifestation  of  pain,  nay,  with  such 
manifestation  of  superiority  to  pain,  that 
the  crucified  one  could  count  over  what 
prophecies  yet  remained  to  be  accom- 
plished, give  directions  as  to  a  home  for 
his  mother,  and  determine  at  what  mo- 
ment his  soul  should  depart ;  this  al- 
most looks  as  though  He  who  hung  upon 
the  cross  had  no  feeling  of  the  torture  ; 
and  how  then  could  He  have  been  my 
kinsman  in  all  but  depravity,  my  brother 
in  all  but  my  guilt  ] 

But  here  the  incident,  on   which  we 
are  discoursing,  comes  in,  and  scatters 
all  doubt.     I  could  not  spare  this  inci- 
29 


dent;  it  just,  serves  to  assure  me  of  the 
bodily  sufferings  of  Christ  ;  it  is  to  me 
what  an  extorted  groan  would  have 
been,  a  decisive  witness,  that  the  mar- 
vellous patience  of  the  Redeemer  in  no 
degree  indicated  that  He  did  not  feel  in 
the  flesh.  For  why  is  the  cross  taken 
from  Him,  and  placed  upon  Simon  1 
Because  He  could  scarcely  advance,  so 
exhausted  was  He  with  what  He  had 
endured,  and  so  oppressed  by  the  bur- 
den. He  had  already  been  scourged 
and  buffeted.  He  had  been  smitten  on 
the  head  with  a  reed  :  his  brow  had 
been  pierced  with  the  thorns  :  cruel  in-" 
suits  had  been  heaped  upon  Him  :  for 
the  soldiers  had  arrayed  Him  in  purple, 
and  bowed  tauntingly  before  Him,  "  say- 
ing, Hail,  king  of  the  Jews."  And 
there  is  not  the  least  hint  given  by  the 
Evangelists,  that,  throughout  this  fierce 
and  ignominious  treatment,  He  gave 
any  indication  of  pain  :  He  might  have 
been  more  than  a  stoic,  indifferent  to 
pain  ;  He  might  have  been  of  a  nature 
which  was  incapable  of  pain.  But 
when  the  cross  was  laid  upon  Him,  and, 
after  a  time,  He  grew  faint  beneath  the 
load — ah,  then  was  it  seen  how  what 
He  passed  through  told  upon  the  body  : 
He  had  felt,  if  He  had  not  shown  his 
feeling ;  and  now  as  he  tottered  feebly 
on,  almost  prostrated  by  his  burden,  a 
sinking  sufferer  whose  every  step  seem- 
ed likely  to  be  his  last,  indeed,  indeed, 
it  was  evident  that  He  was  but  a  man, 
in  the  having  flesh  which  could  quiver, 
if  He  were  more  than  a  man  in  his 
power  over  body  and  soul.  And  thus 
is  the  incident  narrated  in  our  text,  and 
which  may  be  easily  passed  by  with  but 
cursory  notice,  most  consolatory  to  those 
who  seek  to  be  assured  that  the  Media- 
tor "  suffered,  being  tempted,"  and  that 
the  mysterious  fact  of  his  combining  in 
one  person  the  Divine  nature  and  the 
human,  did  not  exempt  Him  from  sueh 
capacity  of  pain  as  might  qualify  Him 
to  sympathize  with  the  groaning  and 
oppressed. 

We  tell  you  again,  we  could  not  spare 
this  incident :  it  would  leave  a  gap  in 
evangelical  histories,  which  it  would  be 
quite  beyond  our  power  to  fill.  We 
have  indeed  evidence  that  Christ  could 
hunger,  and  thirst,  and  be  weary ;  and 
all  such  evidence  is  most  precious,  as 
testifying  to  the  real  humanity  of  the 
Savior.     But  nevertheless,  the  evidence 


2C£ 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


is  far  from  being  considerable  ;  and  if 
you  set  it  against  the  account  of  a  cru- 
cifixion, in  which  there  is  not  the  least 
proof  that  any  pain  was  felt,  you  might 
find  it  hard  to  furnish  a  convincing  de- 
monstration that  Christ  suffered  in  the 
body  like  one  of  ourselves.  What  we 
want  is  a  clear  witness,  that  He  was  no 
more  incapable  of  bodily  pain  than  any 
other  of  our  race ;  but  just  where  you 
would  most  naturally  look  for  this  wit- 
ness, in  the  record  of  those  endurances 
through  which  He  presented  Himself  in 
sacrifice  to  God,  you  cannot  find  it  in 
the  very  lowest  degree,  if  you  remove 
the  account  of  the  bearing  the  cross.  I 
look  with  a  sort  of  fearfulness  and  awe 
upon  the  Mediator,  as  malice  and  cruel- 
ty seem  unable  to  wring  from  Him  a 
sigh  or  a  groan.  I  gaze  in  utter  amaze- 
ment, as  He  is  lacerated  by  stripes, 
stricken  by  rude  hands,  baited  by  the 
rabble,  and  yet  suffers  no  sign  to  escape 
Him  that  He  feels  the  wounds,  and 
writhes  under  the  indignities.  And  as 
He  is  nailed  to  the  cross,  and  then  that 
cross,  straining  under  its  living  burden, 
is  lifted  from  the  earth,  and  made  to 
quiver  in  its  socket,  I  can  but  expect 
the  low  moan  of  anguish,  if  not  the  wild 
and  piercing  shriek  ;  and  it  startles  me 
more,  that  there  should  be  deep,  sepul- 
chral silence,  than  had  the  air  been  rent 
with  the  cries  of  the  sufferer.  Is  this 
man,  as  well  as  God.  over  whom  pain 
would  seem  to  have  no  power  1  Is  his 
humanity  any  thing  more  than  a  phan- 
tom I  is  it  real,  if  thus,  to  all  appear- 
ance, inaccessible  to  pain  ?  Ah,  it  is 
not  inaccessible  to  pain  :  the  scourging 
has  been  felt,  the  driving  of  the  nails 
has  been  felt,  the  fixing  the  cross  has 
been  felt.  If  yonder  victim  have  power 
to  suppress  the  indications  of  agony, 
his  agony  is  not  the  less  actual,  not  the 
less  intense.  He  has  already  shown 
that  He  feels  what  He  endures.  He 
has  already  given  evidence  enough  to 
assure  the  most  doubtful,  that  He  is 
verily  a  man,  with  all  a  man's  suscepti- 
bilities, his  consciousness  of  pain,  his 
capacity  of  being  tortured.  For  as  He 
came  out  from  the  city,  bearing  his  cross, 
so  worn  down  was  He  by  his  sufferings, 
so  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  so  exhaust- 
ed by  fatigue,  that  even  his  remorseless 
enemies  either  pitied  Him,  or  feared 
that  He  would  die  before  He  was  cru- 
cified :   "  the    soldiers    found    a  man  of 


Cyrene,  Simon  by  name,  and  him  they 
compelled  to  bear  his  cross." 

Now  hitherto  we  have  considered  the 
incident  of  the  transfer  of  the  cross,  with 
reference  exclusively  to  our  Savior;  ex- 
amining it  first  in  connexion  with  an  an- 
cient type  :  and  then  as  illustrating  the 
reality  of  those  sufferings  through  which 
Christ  marie  atonement  for  the  sins  oi 
the  world.  We  have  not  yet  treated  the 
incident  as  itself  typical  or  symbolical; 
though  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  an 
event,  which  has  apparently  so  much  of 
significance,  was  designed  to  be  receiv- 
ed by  us  as  a  parable,  and  interpreted 
as  a  lesson  to  the  Church. 

It  can  hardly  fail  to  occur  to  you, 
that,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  Christ 
had  spoken  of  taking  up  and  carrying 
the  cross,  when  he  wished  to  represent 
what  would  be  required  of  his  disciples. 
"  And  he  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and 
followeth  after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me." 
"  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and 
follow  me."  "  Go  thy  way,  sell  what- 
soever thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor, 
and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven ; 
and  come,  take  up  the  cross,  and  follow 
me."  There  cannot  well  be  doubt,  that, 
in  adopting  this  peculiar  imagery,  in 
making  the  bearing  of  the  cross  the  test 
of  discipleship,  our  Lord  had  respect  to 
his  own  crucifixion  :  the  metaphor,  the 
figure  of  speech,  was  one  whose  use 
must  have  arisen  from  the  death  which 
He  foreknew  that  He  should  die.  And 
it  is  only  in  consistence  with  the  uniform 
course  of  our  Savior's  public  teaching, 
that  we  should  expect  the  same  lesson 
in  significative  emblems  or  actions,  as 
we  find  delivered  in  his  sermons  or  con- 
versations. You  are  all  aware  that  mi- 
racles served  as  parables  ;  so  that  much 
which  Christ  was  in  the  habit  of  assert- 
ing in  words,  He  set  forth  figuratively 
in  those  actions  which  attested  him  to  be 
a  teacher  commissioned  by  God.  T ho 
miracles  were  thus  not.  only  his  creden- 
tials as  a  Prophet.  :  they  declared  the 
subject  matter  of  his  teaching,  as  well 
as  substantiated  his  authority  to  teach. 
And  if  the  duty  of  taking  up  the  cross, 
frequently  urged  as  it  was  in  the  dis- 
courses of  Christ,  had  been  one  which 
admitted  of  being  readily  set  forth  in  Ids 
miracles,  we  may  believe  that  we  should 
long  before  have  had  its  figurative  as 
well  as  its  verbal  announcement.     But 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


2 '27 


as  Christ  was  literally  to  bear  his  cross 
only  once,  there  may  have  hecn  nothing 
to  suggest,  or  give  occasion  for,  the  ty- 
pical exhibition  until  that  day  of  wonder 
and  of  fear,  when  He  was  delivered  to 
the  will  of  his  enemies.  Then  however 
was  it  ordered  that  the  truth,  so  often 
urged  in  discourse,  should  he  displayed 
in  significant  action  :  when  the  Redeem- 
er has  literally  across  to  bear,  that  cross 
is  also  literally  borne  by  one  of  his  ad- 
herents. 

And  we  do  not  know  whether  the  fig- 
urative lesson  ought  not  to  be  consider- 
ed as  going  beyond  the  verbal.  What 
the  Savior  had  spoken  of,  and  what  He 
had  enjoined,  was  simply  the  bearing 
the  cross — the  performing  duties,  and 
the  submitting  to  endurances,  from  which 
nature  might  be  averse,  but  which  were 
appointed  unto  those  who  would  gain 
eternal  life.  He  had  not  spoken  of  his 
own  cross  as  that  which  his  disciples 
were  to  carry  :  but  now,  before  Pie  de- 
parts from  the  world,  He  would  teach 
them  that  they  must  not  only  bear  some 
cross  or  another  if  they  would  follow 
Him  to  glory,  but  that  very  cross  which 
He  carried  Himself.  And  it  may  be  in 
reference  to  this,  to  the  sameness  of  the 
cross  borne  by  the  Master  and  the  dis- 
ciples, that  St.  Paul  uses  a  very  remark- 
able expression  in  writing  to  the  Colos- 
sians  :  "  I  fill  up  that  which  is  behind  of 
the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh  for 
his  body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church." 
There  was  no  deficiency  in  the  afflictions 
of  Christ,  so  far  as  they  were  propitia- 
tory ,  and  if  there  had  been,  no  Apostle, 
and  no  company  of  Apostles,  could  have 
filled  up  that  which  was  behind.  Yet 
this  is  what  St.  Paul  represents  himself 
as  doing  ;  and  we  can  only  understand 
him  as  speaking  of  his  afflictions,  as 
arising  from  the  same  causes,  and  endured 
for  the  same  ends,  as  those  of  the  Re- 
deemer, and  moreover  as  necessary  to 
the  Church — not  indeed  in  the  sense  of 
expiating  its  guilt,  but  in  that  of  being 
instrumental  to  the  adding  to  its  num- 
bers. St.  Paul,  like  Christ,  was  perse- 
cuted for  righteousness'  sake  :  like 
Christ,  he  submitted  to  persecution,  for 
the  purpose  of  benefiting  others  ;  there- 
fore his  sufferings  might  be  spoken  of 
as  a  part  of  that  aggregate  of  woe, 
winch  had  to  be  sustained  in  order  to 
the  salvation  of  the  body,  the  Church. 
So  that  the  representation  of  the  Apos- 


tle in  regard  of  himself,  is  precisely  that, 
which  we  might  draw  from  Christ's  last 
instance  of  symbolical  teaching — the 
disciple  bore  the  cross  which  his  master 
had  borne ;  even  as  that  laid  upon  Si- 
mon, had  been  carried  by  Christ. 

Let  not  the  symbolical  lesson  be  hasti- 
ly dismissed,  as  though  it  were  not  im- 
portant enough  to  be  carefully  ponder- 
ed, or  as  though  we  were  too  familiar 
with  it  to  require  that  it  be  often  re- 
peated. There  is  no  greater  mistake 
than  that  which  would  represent  it  as  an 
easy  thing  to  attain  eternal  life.  Just 
because  Christianity  is  the  revelation  of 
a  free  pardon  to  transgressors,  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  wondrous  interposition 
of  Deity  on  our  behalf — an  interposi- 
tion through  which  there  has  been  pro- 
vided for  the  guilty,  without  money  and 
without  price,  whatsoever  is  required  to 
their  full  justification — therefore  is  it 
surmised  that  there  is  little,  if  any  thing, 
for  the  guilty  to  do;  and  that  salvation 
asks  no  effort,  seeing  that  confessedly 
no  effort  could  deserve  it.  But  again 
and  again  must  the  protest  be  delivered 
against  a  theory  so  opposed  to  the  Gos- 
pel,  and  so  fatal  to  the  soul.  There  are 
such  things  as  conditions  of  salvation  ; 
it  is  not  legalizing,  it  is  not  frustrating 
the  grace  of  God,  to  assert  and  insist  on 
conditions  of  salvation.  Salvation  is  a 
free  gift  :  let  the  tongue  cleave  to  the 
roof  of  the  mouth,  rather  than  give  ut- 
terance to  a  syllable  which  shall  seem  to 
impeach  the  freeness  of  the  gift.  But 
the  gift  is  bestowed  only  upon  those 
who  "  by  patient  continuance  in  well- 
doing seek  for  glory,  honor,  and  immor- 
tality." Since  it  is  still  a  gift,  it  cannot 
be  the  "patient  continuance"  which 
procures  it :  for  then  it  would  be  debt, 
and  no  longer  gift.  The  "  patient  con- 
tinuance "  however  is  lequired  of  all 
who  hope  for  the  gift,  required  as  a  con- 
dition, a  condition  without  which  God 
does  not  please  to  bestow,  but  which,  in 
no  degree  whatsoever,  obliges  Him  to 
bestow,  and  which  therefore,  when  most 
rigidly  performed,  takes  not  one  tittle 
away  from  the  unlimited  freeness  of  the 
gift.  And  thus  with  all  its  gratuitous- 
ness, with  all  its  assertion  of  human  in- 
sufficiency, and  all  its  proffers  of  for- 
giveness and  righteousness,  the  Gospel 
lays  an  unceasing  demand  on  every 
energy,  requiring  of  us  that  we  "  work 
out  with  fear  and  trembling,"  that  salva- 


228 


SIMON    THE  CYRENIAIC. 


tion  for  ourselves,  which  we  thankfully 
confess  to  have  been  wrought  out  for  us 
by  Christ. 

In  short,  the  bearing  the  cross  is  re- 
vealed as  the  indispensable  prerequisite 
to  the  wearing  the  crown.  And  the 
memorable  thing  is,  that  it  is  Christ's 
cross  which  must  be  borne.  You  are 
not  to  think  that  every  cross  is  the  cross 
which  the  Savior  requires  you  to  take 
up.  Many  a  cross  is  of  our  own  manu- 
facture :  our  troubles  are  often  but  the 
consequences  of  our  sins,  and  we  may 
not  dignify  these  by  supposing  them  the 
cross  which  is  to  distinguish  the  Chris- 
tian. Crosses  they  may  be  ;  but  they 
are  not  the  cross  which  was  laid  upon 
Simon,  and  which  had  first  been  on 
Christ.  The  cross  of  Christ  is  endur- 
ance for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  fur- 
therance of  the  Gospel :  "  this  is  thank- 
worthy." saith  St.  Peter,  "  if  a  man  for 
conscience  toward  God  endure  grief, 
suffering  wrongfully."  It  is  something 
more  than  self-denial,  though  frequently 
spoken  of  as  though  it  were  the  same  ; 
for  our  Lord  distinguishes  them  when 
He  says,  in  words  already  quoted,  "  If 
any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and 
follow  me."  We  read  of  the  Apostles 
of  Christ,  that  they  rejoiced  that  "  they 
were  counted  worthy  to  suffer  shame 
for  his  name," — and  this  was  both  bear- 
ing his  cross,  and  feeling  it  an  honor  to 
bear  it.  So  that  he  alone  bears  Christ's 
cross  who  suffers  in  his  cause,  who  has 
troubles  to  endure  simply  because  he  is 
a  Christian. 

And  be  ye  thoroughly  assured,  that 
"the  offence  of  the  cross"  has  not 
ceased.  He  who  glories  in  the  cross 
of  Christ,  will  certainly  find  that  cross 
laid  upon  himself.  He  cannot  separate 
from  the  world  without  incurring  the 
frown  and  derision  of  the  world  ;  and 
these  are  but  the  modern  forms  of  per- 
secution, less  virulent  indeed  than  the 
ancient,  but  often  to  the  full  as  galling 
and  oppressive.  And  if  there  be  one  of 
you  who  is  not  aware  that  he  has  a  cross 
of  this  kind  to  carry,  that  religion  ex- 
poses him  to  any  measure  of  obloquy, 
contempt  or  opposition,  let  him  rather 
fear  that  he  is  not  a  real  Christian,  than 
question  whether  Christ's  cross  have 
indeed  been  transferred  to  his  disciples. 
You  may  not  have  the  cross  :  but  it 
should  suggest  to  you  the  inquiry,  Can 


I  be  a  disciple  1  And  further,  let  the 
followers  of  Christ  learn,  that  nothing 
whatsoever  is  to  be  gained  by  those 
compromises  which  may  be  made  with 
the  hope  of  conciliating  the  world.  If 
you  truly  belong  to  Christ,  you  must 
bear  the  frown  of  the  world  ;  and  all 
that  you  will  get  by  evading,  or  trying 
to  disarm  it,  is,  that  when  it  comes,  as 
come  it  must,  it  will  be  all  the  severer 
for  having  been  shunned.  Where  had 
Simon  the  Cyrenian  been,  whilst  Christ 
was  enduring  shame  and  indignity'? 
Not  in  Jerusalem  :  lie  was  met,  as  St. 
Mark  states,  "  coming  out  of  the  coun- 
try." Supposing  him  a  disciple,  he 
ought  to  have  remained  with  Christ  in 
his  hour  of  danger:  but  he  had  proba- 
bly gone  out  of  the  way,  wishing  to  let 
the  storm  blow  over  before  he  showed 
himself  in  the  city  :  and  now  he  may 
have  been  returning,  calculating  that 
the  worst  was  past,  and  that  no  harm 
could  happen  to  him  from  his  reputed 
adherence  to  Christ.  This  was  declin- 
ing the  cross ;  and  the  short-sighted 
policy  met  a  full  retribution.  He  is 
compelled  to  bear  the  cross.  The  sol- 
diers seize  him,  the  multitude  scoff  him  ; 
and  he  has  perhaps  a  thousandfold  more 
to  sustain  than  had  he  not  thought  to 
ward  off,  by  a  cowardly  absence,  what  in 
one  form  or  another  a  Christian  mustbear, 
or  be  a  Christian  in  nothing  but  name. 

Be  ye  certain,  then,  not  only  that,  if 
Christians,  you  must  carry  Christ's 
cross,  but  that  you  make  it  all  the  heavi- 
er by  avoiding  it  when  it  lies  in  the  clear 
path  of  duty.  There  is  no  such  way 
of  incurring  shame  as  the  being  asham- 
ed of  Christ.  For  if  you  be  not  left,  in 
just  judgment  on  your  cowardice  and 
desertion,  to  harden  into  mere  nominal 
disciples,  of  whom  Christ  will  be  asham- 
ed when  He  cometh  with  his  angels,  you 
may  be  sure  that  you  shall  be  punished 
with  an  aggravated  measure  of  the  very 
contempt  which  you  have  thought  to 
avoid.  Even  the  world  respects  con- 
sistency ;  and  its  bitterest  scorn  is  for 
those  who  have  tried  to  disarm  it  by 
concealing,  if  not  abjuring,  their  princi- 
ples. Simon  might  have  remained  in 
Jerusalem,  and  then  have  followed 
Christ  to  Calvary  with  but  little  observa- 
tion :  but  forasmuch  as  he  is  met,  "  com- 
ing out  of  the  country,"  he  shall  be  the 
sport  of  the  rabble,  a  mark  for  universal 
ridicule  and  scorn. 


SIMON  THE  CYRENIAN. 


229 


And  yet  even  in  his  case,  there  is  one 
other  particular  which  should  be  noted 
for  the  comfort  of  the  Church.  The 
cross  was  carried  by  Christ,  before  it 
was  carried  by  Simon.  The  arrange- 
ment might  have  been  different  :  the 
disciple  might  have  borne  the  burden 
the  first  part  of  the  way,  and  then  it 
might  have  been  laid  on  the  Master. 
But  our  comfort  is,  that  the  cross  which 
we  must  carry  has  been  already  carried 
by  Christ,  and  therefore,  like  the  grave 
which  He  entered,  been  stripped  of  its 
hatefulness.  It  might  almost  be  said  to 
have  changed  its  nature  through  being 
laid  on  the  Son  of  God :  it  left  behind 
it  its  terribleness,  its  oppressiveness  : 
and  now,  as  transferred  to  the  disciple, 
it  is  indeed  a  cross,  but  across  which  it 
is  a  privilege  to  bear,  a  cross  which  God 
never  fails  to  give  strength  to  bear,  a 
cross,  which,  as  leading  to  a  crown,  may 
justly  be  prized,  so  that  we  would  not 
have  it  off  our  shoulders,  till  the  diadem 
is  on  our  brow.  "  If  ye  be  reproached 
for  the  name  of  Christ " — and  this  is 
the  cross — "  happy  are  ye  ;  for  the 
Spirit  of  glory  and  of  God  resteth  upon 
you."  O  see  ye  not,  then,  how  eloquent 
and  comprehensive  a  homily  was  deliv- 
ered through  the  simple  incident  re- 
lated in  our  text  ?  It  is  one  of  Christ's 
last  and  most  impressive  sermons.  He 
would  not  leave  the  world  without  fur- 
nishing a  standing  memorial,  that  his 
disciples  must  bear  the  same  cross  as 
Himself,  inasmuch  as,  like  Himself,  they 
must  endure  the  world's  hatred  as 
champions  and  examples  of  truth.  And 
together  with  this  memorial  He  would 
show,  by  a  powerful  instance,  that,  in 
religion,  a  temporizing  policy  is  sure  to 
defeat  itself,'  so  that  to  fly  from  the 
cross  is  commonly  to  meet  it,  dilated  in 
size,  and  heavier  in  material.  But  He 
had  one  more  truth  to  represent  at  the 
same  time — the  beautiful  comforting 
truth,  that  He  has  borne  what  his  fol- 
lowers have  to  bear,  and  thereby  so 
lightened  it,  that,  as  with  death,  which 
He  made  sleep  to  the  believer,  the  bur- 
den but  quickens  the  step  towards  the 
"  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory."  And  that  He  might  effect  and 
convey  all  this  through  one  great  signifi- 
cant action,  it  was  ordered,  we  may  be- 
lieve, that,  as  they  led  away  Jesus,  car- 
rying like  Isaac  the  wood  for  the  burnt- 
offerino:,   the   soldiers  laid   hold  on  one 


Simon,  a  Cyrenian,  coming  out  of  the 
country,  and  him  they  compelled  to  bear 
his  cross. 

And  is  this  all  that  was  typically  re- 
presented by  the  laying  of  the  cross  on 
Simon  the  Cyrenian  1  Indeed  we  ought 
never  to  press  a  type  too  far  :  it  is  easy, 
by  indulging  the  imagination,  to  injure 
or  bring  into  discredit  the  whole  of  the 
figurative  lesson.  Yet  there  is  one 
thing  more  which  we  would  venture  to 
advance,  though  we  may  not  speak  with 
the  same  confidence  as  when  asserting 
that  Christ  taught  by  action,  as  He  had 
before  taught  by  word,  that  his  disciples 
must  suffer  with  Him,  if  they  ever  hope 
to  reign.  We  have  already  mentioned 
our  inability  to  ascertain  any  particulars 
respecting  Simon,  or  even  to  determine 
whether  he  were  a  Jew  or  a  Pagan. 
Many  of  the  ancient  fathers  supposo 
him  to  have  been  a  Pagan,  and  considei 
that,  in  being  made  to  bear  the  cross 
after  Christ,  He  typified  the  conversion 
of  idolatrous  nations  which  either  have 
been  or  will  be  brought  to  a  profession 
of  faith  in  our  Lord.  And  there  are  no 
such  reasons  against  this  opinion  as  can 
require  its  rejection,  nor  such  even  a? 
can  show  that  the  weight  of  probability 
is  on  the  opposite  side.  We  must  be 
therefore  at  liberty  to  entertain  the 
opinion,  and,  at  least,  to  point  out  the 
inferences  which  would  follow  on  sup- 
position of  its  truth. 

But  once  let  it  be  considered  that  Si- 
mon was  a  Pagan,  and  our  text  becomes 
one  of  those  bright,  prophetic  lines 
which  shoot  through  centuries  of  gloom, 
giving  promise  of  a  morning,  if  they  can- 
not scatter  night.  It  is  not  the  single 
fact  of  his  having  been  a  heathen  on 
which  we  would  now  fasten  :  for  there 
are  scriptural  assertions  in  abundance, 
that  the  heathen  have  been  given  to 
Christ  for  an  inheritance,  and  that  all  the 
ends  of  the  earth  shall  yet  look  to  Him 
as  a  Savior;  so  that  if  the  laying  of  the 
cross  upon  Simon  merely  intimated  pro- 
phetically the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles, 
it  would  be  but  one  in  a  series  of  predic- 
tions, and  might  not  claim  any  special 
attention.  But  Simon  was  a  Cyrenian — 
this  is  carefully  noted  by  each  of  the 
three  evangelists — and  Cyrene,  as  we 
mentioned  in  commencing  our  discourse, 
was  a  city  and  province  of  Africa.  Then 
it  was  on  an  African  that  the  cross  was 
laid — on  an  inhabitant,  a  native  of  that 


230 


SIMON  THE  CYREMAX. 


country  which,  from  the  earliest  days,  I 
has  been  burdened  with  a  curse  ;  the 
malediction  pronounced  upon  Ham,  "  a 
servant  of  servants  shall  he  be  unto  his 
brethren,"  having  been  fearfully  exacted, 
so  that  those  sprung  from  the  second  son 
of  Noah  have,  all  along,  been  ground 
down  and  trampled  on  by  the  descend- 
ants of  the  other  two. 

Africa — the  very  name  is  sufficient  to 
call  up  a  blush,  wheresoever  there  are 
the  feelings  of  a  man.  The  wrongs  of 
the  negro  fill  perhaps  the  darkest  page 
in  the  history  of  our  race.  But  whilst 
those  who  have  oppressed  the  Africans 
have  been  just  as  criminal  as  though  the 
oppression  had  not  been  distinctly  pre- 
dicted, it  is  vain  to  shut  our  eyes  to 
the  fact,  that  the  period  has  not  yet 
closed  during  which,  by  Divine  appoint- 
ment, this  tribe  of  human  kind  is  to  be 
injured  and  enslaved.  Those  philan- 
thropic individuals  acted  nobly  and  well, 
who  fought  in  this  country  the  battle  of 
the  slave,  and  would  not  rest  till  the 
senate  branded  and  proscribed  the  traf- 
fic in  human  sinew  and  bone.  And  our 
country  did  gloriously  when  she  threw 
down  her  millions  as  a  ransom,  resolv- 
ing to  extinguish  slavery  in  her  colonies, 
but  to  maintain,  at  the  same  time,  good 
faith  and  justice.  We  speak  of  all  this 
as  noble  and  excellent,  because  we  be- 
lieve it  to  have  been  our  duty  as  Chris- 
tians to  set  ourselves  against  slavery  as 
hostile  to  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  and 
to  attempt  this  duty  at  all  costs,  and, 
what  is  more,  all  risks.  But  if  we  were 
to  argue  from  consequences,  in  place  of 
from  principles,  we  might  almost  hesi- 
tate to  rejoice  that  the  attack  upon  slav- 
ery had  ever  been  made.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  that  has  been  done  for  Africa, 
Africa,  alas  !  is  as  wretched  as  ever,  as 
much  rifled  of  her  children,  as  though 
the  ancestral  curse  were  not  yet  worn 
out,  and,  whilst  it  were  in  force,  the  ef- 
fort to  benefit  could  only  work  injury. 
But  is  this  to  continue  1  Undoubted- 
ly not, — for  every  prophecy  which  as- 
serts the  universal  diffusion  of  Chris- 
tianity must  be  considered  as  announc- 
ing a  time  when  the  wrongs  of  Africa 
shall  terminate,  and  her  tortured  chil- 
dren enter  into  the  liberty  of  the  sons  of 
God. 

But  where  there  is  special  wretched- 
ness one  seems  to  crave  a  special  pro- 
phecy.    It  is  such  a  trial  of  faith  to  find 


that  we  seem  unable  to  do  anything  for 
Africa,  her  vast  deserts  being  still  the 
grave  of  all  who  would  explore  them, 
and  the  bondage  of  her  children  only 
growing  with  efforts  for  their  emancipa- 
tion, that  we  long  for  specific  predic- 
tions, assuring  us  that  Africa  is  not  ex- 
cluded from  the  promised  glory,  but  will 
throw  off  every  shackle,  whether  of  the 
mind  or  the  body.  There  are  such  pre- 
dictions, "  Princes  shall  come  out  of 
Egypt ;  the  Morian's  land  shall  soon 
stretch  out  her  hands  unto  God."  "  Be- 
hold, Philistia  and  Tyre,  with  Ethiopia  ; 
this  man  was  born  there."  "  The  labor 
of  Egypt,  and  merchandize  of  Ethiopia 
and  of  the  Sabeans,  men  of  stature,  shall 
come  over  unto  thee,  and  they  shall  bo 
thine."  I  rejoice  in  prophecies  which 
tell  of  blessings  for  Ethiopia.  I  remem 
ber  the  question,  "  Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin  ]"  and  I  feel  that  these 
prophecies  belong  to  the  negro.  When 
the  eunuch  of  Candace,  queen  of  the 
Ethiopians,  goes  on  his  way  rejoicing 
because  believing  in  Jesus,  I  seem  to 
have  a  pledge  of  mercy  in  store  for  the 
negro.  But  all  this  hardly  comes  up  to 
the  measure  of  the  case.  O  for  an  am- 
pler prophecy,  a  more  express  type. 
There  is  scarce  enough  in  such  passing 
intimations  as  these,  to  sustain  the  faith 
which  is  staggered  by  the  increasing 
wretchedness  of  Africa,  and  its  undimin- 
ished wickedness.  Then  let  us  go  and 
look  on  the  Redeemer  as  He  toils  to- 
wards Calvary.  Who  is  it  that,  in  the 
ordering  of  Providence,  has  been  ap- 
pointed to  carry  his  cross  ]  A  Cyrenian, 
an  African.  I  read  the  prophecy,  I  ap- 
prehend the  type.  Land,  that  hath  long 
been  accursed,  whose  children  have 
verily  been  the  servants  of  servants, 
over  which  has  hung  so  ponderous  a 
gloom,  that  those  most  hopeful  of  im- 
provement in  human  condition  have  al- 
most turned  from  thee  in  despair — bright 
times  await  thee.  Thou  art  not  in  bond- 
age for  ever;  thy  chains  shall  yet  be 
dashed  away  :  the  star  of  Bethlehem, 
the  sun  of  righteousness,  shall  yet  break 
upon  thy  provinces  and  gleam  in  thy 
waters  ;  the  anthem  which  ascribe i 
praise,  and  glory,  and  honor  to  the  Larr.3 
that  was  slain,  shall  float  through  thy 
forests,  and  be  echoed  by  thy  mountains. 
Not  without  a  meaning  was  one  of  thy 
sons  selected  to  bear  the  cross  after 
Christ,  and   thus  to   fill  a  post  to  which 


THF,  POWER  OF    THE  EYE. 


231 


the  martyrs  and  confessors  of  every  age 
of  Christianity  have  counted  it  their 
highest  honor  to  succeed.  It  was  as 
though  to  tell  us  that  even  Africa  shall 
yet  be  brought  to  the  discipleship  of 
,Jr<'\  .  Europe  gave  not  this  type  of 
the  Gentile  world  submitting  itself  to 
Christ.  Asia  was  not  permitted  to  own 
the  favored  individual.  America,  as  yet  j 
unknown  to  the  rest  of  the  earth,  might  | 
r>ot  send  the  representative  of  heathen-  ' 


ism.  Africa  is  the  privileged  country  ; 
an  African  follows  Jesus — oh-,  the  dark- 
ness of  many  generations  seems  scatter- 
ed ;  and  I  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that 
the  land  of  slaves  shall  be  the  home  of 
freedom,  the  land  of  misery  the  home  ot 
happiness,  the  land  of  idolatry  the  home 
of  Christianity,  when  I  observe  that  it 
was  one  Simon,  a  Cyrenian,  whom  the 
soldiers  seized  and  constrained  to  bear 
the  cross  after  Christ. 


SERMON    XII 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


1  3  will  in?trKct  thee  and  teach  thee  in  the  way  which  thou  shalt  go:  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye.  Be  ye  not  aa 
the  horse  or  as  the  mule,  which  have  no  understanding,  whose  mouth  must  be  held  iuwith  bit  and  bridle,  lest  they 
coma  near  unto  thee." — Psalm  xxxii.  8,  9. 


There  maybe  some  debate  as  to  who 
should  be  considered  the  speaker  of 
these  words,  whether  the  Psalmist  or 
God  Himself.  You  must  often  have 
observed  in  reading  the  Psalms,  what  a 
frequent  change  of  persons  there  is,  so 
tj  I  he  sacred  hymn  has  all  the  appear- 
ati  •  •  »f  a  conversation,  carried  on  be- 
tw<  en  various  though  undefined  parties. 
And  (on  should  bear  in  mind,  that  the 
I\  '..;;,  having  been  composed  for  pub- 
lic v.  irship,  were  used  in  services  con- 
ducted by  numerous  ministers  or  per- 
form rs  :  a  voice  from  one  side  of  the 
wakened  a  voice  from  another  : 
chorus  replied  to  chorus  ;  and  occasion- 
ally ri  single  low  strain  was  heard,  as 
fpom  A\o  recesses  of  the  sanctuary,  breath- 
ing words  which  were  listened  to  as  from 
the  oracle  of  God.  It  often  surprising- 
ly helps  the  interpretation  of  the  Psalms, 
to  observe  the  change  of  speakers,  and 
to  e  uleavor  to  determine  who  may  have 
been  personified  by  one,  and  who  by 
another.    Bishop  Horsley,  in  his  transla- 


tion and  arrangement  of  these  beautiful 
hymns,  has  divided  each  into  parts,  and 
assigned  to  each  part  its  speaker ;  and 
if  you  cannot,  in  every  case,  see  the  pro- 
priety of  the  division  which  he  makes, 
you  will  yet  in  most  find  that  division 
itself  an  admirable  commentary  on  the 
hymn,  the  appropriation  of  the  stanzas 
removing  much  obscurity,  and  elucidat- 
ing the  meaning. 

In  the  instance  of  our  text,  the  learn- 
ed prelate  supposes  the  first  verse  to 
proceed  from  the  oracular  voice  which 
pronounced  those  parts  of  a  psalm  which 
were  to  be  taken  as  spoken  in  God's 
name  ;  the  second  he  considers  as  the 
utterance  of  the  Psalmist,  addressing 
himself  to  the  by-standers,  who  had 
heard  this  oracular  voice.  We  do  not 
know  that  it  materially  affects  the  force 
and  beauty  of  the  passage,  whether  we 
regard  it  as  thus  spoken  partly  by  God 
and  partly  by  David,  or  whether  we 
consider  it  as  proceeding  wholly  from 
either    of  the    two.     But    perhaps    the 


232 


THE   POWER  OF  THE  EVE. 


bishop's  supposition  accords  best  with 
the  character  of  the  verses  themselves; 
and  we  shall  therefore  adopt  it,  so  far 
as  we  may  have  occasion,  in  illustrating 
what  is  spoken,  to  make  a  reference  to 
the  speaker. 

It  is  God,  then,  who  may  be  consider- 
ed as  saying,  whether  to  the  Psalmist 
individually,  or  to  every  child  of  our 
race,  "I  will  instruct  thee  and  teach 
thee  in  the  way  which  thou  shalt  go;  J 
will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye."  There 
is  here  the  promise  of  direction  and  pro- 
tection, but  a  promise,  as  you  will  all 
see,  whose  fulfilment  can  take  place  only 
to  the  watchful  and  the  meek.  If  there 
is  to  be  instruction  and  teaching  on  the 
part  of  God,  there  must  be  a  hearkening 
and  an  attentiveness  on  the  part  of  man  : 
the  relation  supposed  is  that  between  a 
preceptor  and  a  scholar:  and  it  is  not 
enough  that  the  preceptor  be  willing  to 
impart  knowledge,  it  is  further  required 
that  the  scholar  be  ready  to  receive  it. 
And  that  a  teachable  disposition  is  sup- 
posed in  those  who  are  addressed  by  the 
oracular  voice,  you  will  further  infer 
from  the  remainder  of  the  utterance, 
"  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye."  We 
shall,  as  we  proceed,  lay  great  stress  on 
this  expression  ;  it  is  a  very  singular  one, 
and  deserves  the  being  most  closely 
considered.  At  present  it  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  observe  to  you,  that  if  God  is  to' 
guide  us  with  his  eye,  to  guide  us,  as  it 
were,  by  a  look,  it  is  evident  that  there 
must  be  a  watchfulness  on  our  own  part ; 
the  voice  of  God  might  force  attention, 
compelling  even  the  careless  to  receive 
certain  directions,  but  manifestly  the  eye 
of  God  can  guide  none  but  those  who  are 
diligently  observing  the  lightest  indica- 
tions of  his  will.  Hence,  as  we  said  before, 
whatsoever  there  be  of  gracious  promise 
in  the  oracular  utterance,  is  addressed  to 
those  only  who  possess  and  exercise  a 
certain  disposition,  a  disposition  to  re- 
ceive and  be  on  the  watch  for  instruc- 
tion. God  does  not  promise  that  He 
will  guide  those  who  give  no  heed  to 
quiet  suggestions  and  gentle  intimations, 
but  those  alone  who  are  hearkening  for 
instruction,  and  for  whom  a  glance  is 
sufficient. 

And  this  being  the  scope  and  bearing 
of  the  words  from  "the  oracle,  you  will 
enter  readily  into  the  meaning  of  the 
following  verse,  considered  as  the  ad- 
dress or  advice  of  the  Psalmist   to  the 


by-standers,  who  are  supposed  to  have 
been  hearkening  to  the  heavenly  pro- 
mise. A  certain  disposition  had  been 
described  as  essential  to  all  who  would 
have  God  for  their  leader  :  at  least,  if 
not  explicitly  described,  it  had  been 
sufficiently  intimated  to  be  known  by 
every  hearer.  The  Psalmist,  therefore 
takes  occasion  to  deliver  a  warning 
against  the  opposite  disposition — a  dis- 
position to  yield  only  to  harsh  measures- 
and  severe  discipline.  "  Be  ye  not  as 
the  horse,  or*  as  the  mule,  which  have 
no  understanding,  whose  mouth  must  be 
held  in  with  bit  and  bridle."  You  see 
that  a  contrast  is  intended  between  those 
who  could  be  guided  by  the  eye,  and 
those  who  required  the  bit  and  the 
bridle.  It  is  as  much  as  to  say,  you 
have  heard  who  those  are  who  may  ex- 
pect the  great  privilege  of  being  led  by 
the  Almighty,  even  such  as  may  be  said 
to  be  watching  his  countenance,  that 
they  may  catch  from  it  the  least  signs  of 
his  will.  Take  ye  good  heed,  then,  that 
ye  be  not  careless  and  stubborn,  resem- 
bling those  beasts  who  need  the  rein 
and  the  muzzle,  and  whom  nothing  but 
actual  force  will  keep  in  the  right  path, 
or  prevent  from  doing  mischief.  If  the 
promise  of  God  be  to  those  who  are  ob- 
servant of  his  eye,  what  must  their  con- 
dition be,  who  care  for  nothing  but  his 
scourge  ] 

Here,  then,  we  have  before  us  a  very 
interesting  subject  of  discourse,  in  the 
opposite  dispositions  delineated  by  our 
text.  We  have  said  enough  to  put  you 
in  possession  of  the  general  idea,  and 
we  may  now  proceed  to  illustrations 
and  inferences.  We  shall  naturally  ar- 
range what  we  have  to  advance  under 
the  divisions  suggested  by  the  verses 
themselves.  In  the.first  place,  we  have 
to  examine  what  may  be  gathered  from 
the  saying,  "  I  will  guide  thee  with 
mine  eye  :  "  in  the  second  place,  we 
have  to  consider  what  force  this  saying 
gives  to  the  exhortation,  "  Be  ye  not  aa 
the  horse,  or  as  the  mule." 

Now  you  will  have  already  under- 
stood, that  we  regard  guidance  with  the 
eye  as  proving  great  attentiveness  in 
the  party  who  is  led,  great  anxiety  to 
catch  the  wishes  of  the  being  who  guides, 
and  great  readiness  in  obeying  the 
lightest  intimations  of  his  will.  We 
know  very  well  that  with  a  thoroughly 
obedient  and  affectionate  child  a  look  ia 


THE   POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


233 


sufficient :  be  will  not  wait  till  the  pa- 
rent issue  an  actual  prohibition,  or  im- 
pose an  absolute  command  ;  he  will  take 
direction  from  a  turn  of  the  countenance, 
from  a  gesture,  from  a  movement ;  and 
where  he  can  do  little  more  than  guess 
what  will  be  most  acceptable,  he  will 
act  on  what  is  likely,  rather  than  excuse 
himself  by  the  \^»ut  of  more  distinct  in- 
formation. And  such  a  disposition  it 
would  appear  to  be,  of  which  God  in 
our  text  intimates  his  approval  :  the 
party  whom  He  can  lead  with  his  eye, 
must  be  one  who  does  not  in  every  case 
demand  express  categorical  instructions, 
but  who,  in  the  absence  of  these,  will 
search  out  the  slightest  hints,  the  brief- 
est intimations,  and  act  carefully  on 
what  is  probable,  where  there  is  nothing 
certain  to  direct  him.  We  are  inclined 
to  think,  for  example,  that  much  of  the 
Bible,  or  at  least  of  the  New  Testament, 
is  constructed  on  the  principle  that  it  is 
with  his  eye  that  God  would  guide  his 
Church,  truths  being  often  intimated 
rather  than  affirmed,  left  to  be  detected 
by  an  ever-watchful  student,  though  not 
exposed  to  every  cursory  observer.  And 
more  than  this — for  the  guidance  of  the 
eye  may  be  yet  more  subtile  and  deli- 
cate— it  may  be  that  Scripture  puts  the 
probabilities  on  the  side  of  a  certain  te- 
net or  practice,  when  itcannot  be  affirm- 
ed that  it  places  it  beyond  controversy ; 
and  if  such  a  case  occur,  we  suppose 
that  those  who  are  guided  by  the  eye, 
will  incline  to-the  holding  the  tenet,  or 
the  adopting  the  practice,  though  they 
cannot  plead  express  and  positive  com- 
mand. The  child  may  receive  a  letter 
from  his  parent,  containing  express  di- 
rections as  to  certain  points  on  which  he 
needs  teaching,  but  nothing  very  defi- 
nite as  to  others  on  which  he  is  in  doubt. 
Of  course  he  will  not  hesitate  in  i-egard 
of  the  first ;  he  has  there  more  than  the 
guidance  of  the  eye  :  and  no  excuse  can 
be  invented  for  his  swerving  from  the 
will  of  his  parent.  But  in  regard  of  the 
last,  the  points  on  which  the  parent  has 
given  no  express  directions,  there  are 
two  courses  which  he  may  pursue :  he- 
may  refuse  to  act  at  all,  unless  he  be 
furnished  with  explicit  commands  :  or 
he  may  read  the  letter  again  and  again, 
marking  every  turn  of  expression,  and 
weighing  word  against  word,  anxious  to 
see  whether  the  mind  of  the  parent  may 
not  be  gathered  from  incidental  notices, 


or  whether  there  be  not  reason  to  con- 
clude that  one  course  would  be  more 
agreeable  to  him  than  another.  We 
should  pronounce  the  child  who  acted 
in  the  latter  manner,  as  distinguished 
from  one  who  acted  in  the  former,  ready 
to  be  led  by  the  eye  as  well  as  by  the 
tongue  ;  he  is  endeavoring,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  words,  to  catch  the  looks  of 
his  father;  and  you  will  all  admit  that 
he  hereby  shows  an  amiableness  and  a 
warmth  of  affection  which  ought  to  se- 
cure for  him  a  larger  measure  of  parental 
regard. 

Let  us  consider  whether  nothing  of 
the  like  kind  may  be  said  in  respect  of 
that  letter,  the  Bible,  which  our  heaven- 
ly Parent  has  written  to  the  Church. 
On  far  the  greater  number  of  points  on 
which  we  require  direction,  the  letter  is 
so  explicit  and  distinct,  that  if  we  re- 
main ignorant  or  mistaken,  it  can  only 
be  through  our  own  ignorance  or  wil- 
fulness. And  in  respect  of  these,  it  is 
not  to  be  said  that  God  guides  us  with 
his  eye  :  the  instructions  are  express, 
written  down  and  spoken  so  as  to  be 
known  and  read  of  all.  But  there  are 
other  points  on  which  it  would  be  quite 
idle  to  assert  this  explicitness  of  direc- 
tion, but  on  which  nevertheless  there 
may  be  passing  intimations,  such  as  an 
affectionate  observation  will  note,  and  a 
devoted  obedience  will  follow.  There 
may  be  material  from  which  to  infer 
which  of  two  courses  is  the  more  likely 
to  be  acceptable  to  God,  even  where 
there  is  not  enough  for  our  fixing  with 
certainty  ;  and  we  should  say  that  the 
man  who  acted  on  the  likelihood,  where 
he  could  not  get  the  certainty,  would  de- 
serve to  be  spoken  of  as  guided  by  the 
eye,  when  he  could  not  hear  the  voice. 
An  instance  is  furnished,  we  think,  in 
the  matter  of  the  baptism  of  infants. 
There  can  be  no  debate  amongst  those 
who  are  willing  to  take  Scripture  in  its 
plain  unvarnished  sense,  that  baptism  is 
the  appointed  rite  of  initiation  into  the 
Church  of  the  Redeemer.  Our  Lord's 
directions  on  this  matter  are  so  strong 
and  distinct,  that  we  cannot  be  said  to 
be  guided  merely  by  his  eye,  when  we 
administer  baptism  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  But  when  we  come  to  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  parties  may  be  duly 
made  the  subjects  of  this  sacrament,  we 
can  no  longer  plead  express  and  unequi- 


234 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


vocal  direction.  Of  course,  those  who  are 
of  ripe  age,  arid  make  satisfactory  con- 
fession of  faith,  must  on  all  hands  be 
regarded  as  fit  to  be  sprinkled  with  the 
regenerating  water's.  But  what  is  to  be 
said  of  children,  too  young  themselves 
to  know  anything  of  Christianity,  and 
who,  if  they  profess  faith  at  all,  must  do 
it  by  the  mouths  of  parents  or  sponsors  1 
You  are  aware  that  this  has  been  a 
much  litigated  question  :  and  though  we 
of  the  Established  Church  enjoin  the 
baptism  of  infants  as  "  most  agreeable 
with  the  institution  of  Christ,"  we  do 
not  profess  to  say  that  it  is  distinctly 
prescribed  in  the  Bible.  But  perhaps 
there  is  the  guidance  of  the  eye,  even 
if  there  be  nothing  more  distinct. 
There  may  be  some  intimations  from 
which  to  infer  what  will  be  most  pleas- 
ing to  Christ ;  and  it  will  be  the  part  of 
the  affectionate  and  obedient  to  act  upon 
these.  We  turn,  then,  to  the  New  Tes- 
tament :  we  find  a  very  touching  narra- 
tive of  the  bringing  of  young  children 
to  Jesus,  that  He  might  lay  his  hands 
upon  them  and  bless  them.  The  disci- 
ples rebuked  those  who  brought  them, 
no  doubt  imagining  that  only  adults 
were  fit  subjects  for  their  Master's  bene- 
diction. But  we  are  told  that  when 
Christ  saw  it,  He  was  much  displeased  ; 
He  directed  immediately  that  the  chil- 
dren should  be  brought  to  Him  ;  and 
then — a  circumstance  which  indicates 
that  they  were  very  young,  probably 
quite  infants — "  He  took  them  up  in  his 
arms,  put  his  hands  upon  them  and  bless- 
ed them." 

Now,  we  are  far  enough  from  saying 
that  this  beautiful  incident  furnishes  de- 
cisive witness  in  favor  of  the  baptism 
of  infants  :  we  have  already  intimated 
that  we  do  not  think  that  such  witness 
is  to  be  found  in  the  Bible.  But  we 
certainly  regard  the  incident  as  showing 
which  of  two  things  is  the  more  likely 
to  be  agreeable  to  Christ  :  baptism  is 
the  instituted  mode  through  which  indi- 
viduals are  brought  to  Him  to  be  bless- 
ed ;  and  if  He  have  not  prescribed  the 
age  at  which  this  sacrament  may  be  ad- 
ministered, yet  by  blessing  the  very 
youngest,  whilst  He  sojourned  upon 
earth,  He  may  be  thought  to  have  in- 
dicated that  the  very  youngest  are  wel- 
come, now  that  He  has  entered  into 
heaven.  There  is  no  decisive  argument 
here  for  the  rigid  controversialist,  who 


may  tell  us,  and  tell  us  truly,  that  the 
incident  in  question  has  no  immediate  or 
nece. sary  connexion  with  baptism:  but 
there  is  a  very  touching  intimation  to 
the  earnest  lover  of  his  Lord,  who  is 
all  anxiety  to  know  what  is  likely  to 
please  Him  best.  In  the  absence  of  ex- 
press command,  I  may  learn  something 
from  that  look  of  displeasure  which 
Christ  threw  on  those  who  would  have 
kept  infants  from  Him  ;  and  this  we 
call  being  guided  by  the  eye,  where  no 
voice  can  be  heard  ;  and  we  learn  from 
our  text,  that  it  is  by  the  eye,  as  well 
as  by  the  voice,  that  God  would  have 
his  Church  instructed  and  led. 

Neither  is  this  a  solitary  instance  of 
guidance  by  the  eye,  though  we  have 
not  space  to  enlarge  on  any  other.  It  is 
by  the  eye  that  we  are  guided  to  the 
keeping  holy  the  first  day  of  the  week: 
if  you  will  yield  to  nothing  but  a  posi- 
tive command  for  this  observance,  you 
will  not  find  it  in  the  New  Testament ; 
but  if  you  can  take  indirect  intimations, 
if  you  can  act  on  what  we  may  call  the 
looks  of  your  Master,  you  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  confessing  the  obligation  of 
the  Christian  Sabbath. 

We  should  be  inclined  to  advance 
much  the  same  statement  in  respect  of 
Church  government.  We  will  not  say 
that  our  own  ecclesiastical  system, 
though  modelled  after  that  of  the  early 
Church,  is  laid  down  with  such  precision 
in  Scripture,  that  there  cannot  be  de- 
bate as  to  its  correctness  and  authority. 
So  far  as  the  Bible  is  concerned,  it  may 
not  be  by  the  voice  of  God  that  we  are 
directed  to  have  three  orders  in  the  mi- 
nistry, the  bishop,  the  priest,  and  the 
deacon.  But  if  it  be  not  by  the  voice, 
it  may  be  by  the  eye,  of  God,  that  wo 
are  guided  herein.  You  may  not  find 
in  the  New  Testament  such  explicit  di- 
rections in  regard  of  an  ecclesiasti- 
cal constitution  as  leave  no  room  for 
doubt ;  but  there  may  be — and  we 
thoroughly  feel  that  there  are — intima- 
tions, and  allusions,  and  hints,  which 
show  a  probability  in  favor  of  that 
constitution  which  we  regard  as  apos- 
tolic :  and  ought  not  this  probability, 
like  the  expression  of  the  countenance 
of  a  well-beloved  friend,  to  determine 
our  conduct  in  the  absence  of  direct 
command,  whether  by  letter  or  speech  1 

It  is  the  drift  of  all  these  observations 
on  the  indirect  evidence  which  Scripture 


THE   POWER   OF  THE   EYE. 


235 


may  furnish  to  certain  matters,  whether 
of  doctrine  or  discipline,  to  put  you  on 
your  guard  against  a  hard,  dogmatical 
temper,  a  temper  which  will  take  nothing 
but  on  rigid  demonstration,  and  rejects 
probability  where  it  cannot  gain  cei-- 
tainty.  There  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween the  proof  which  may  be  expect- 
ed to  convince  a  mere  reasoner,  and 
that  which  should  suffice  for  the  guid- 
ance of  a  warm-hearted  disciple.  If  the 
child,  to  whose  case  we  have  before  re- 
ferreu,  were  to  put  his  parent's  letter 
into  the  hands  of  a  stranger,  of  a  shrewd 
man  of  the  world,  who  will  look  at 
nothing  but  its  actual  expressions,  he 
might  be  told  that  there  was  very  little 
in  the  document  to  which  he  could  be 
required  to  attend.  But  the  child  him- 
self, intent  only  on  discovering  the  pa- 
rent's mind,  searches  out  notices  which 
the  stranger  overlooks,  and  of  which, 
when  shown  to  him,  he  declares  that  he 
cannot  see  the  obligation.  It  may  be 
that  the  child  might  be  held  excusable 
in  disregarding  the  notices,  if  the  matter 
turned  upon  evidence,  and  nothing  were 
binding  which  could  not  be  mathemati- 
cally proved.  But  the  child's  desire  is 
simply  to  do  what  the  parent  will  ap- 
prove ;  and  affection  will  make  him  keen- 
sighted,  when,  on  the  principles  of 
logic,  there  may  be  nothing  to  point  out 
a  course.  And  you  would  all  be  ready 
to  convict  the  child  of  a  want  of  due 
love  for  his  parent,  if  he  treated  the 
letter  just  as  he  might  a  series  of  geo- 
metrical demonstrations,  admitting  no 
conclusion  unless  he  had  established 
every  step  in  the  premises,  and  allowing 
no  weight  to  any  inference  or  suggestion  ' 
which  could  not  be  made  good  by  the 
strict  rules  of  a  syllogism. 

We  bid  you  therefore  be  on  the  watch, 
that  you  carry  not  to  your  daily  reading 
of  the  Bible  the  temper  which  would  be 
so  ungracious  in  the  supposed  case  of 
the  child.  If  you  are  called  upon  to 
argue  with  the  sceptical  and  disputatious, 
you  must  arm  yourselves  with  the  ex- 
plicit statements  which  are  meant  for  the 
hard  and  unbelieving  ;  for  it  would  be 
useless  to  adduce  the  indirect  intimations, 
which  belong  only  to  the  gentle  and  af- 
fectionate. But  do  not  always,  when 
you  take  up  the  Bible,  take  it  up  as  men 
who  have  a  battle  to  fight,  and  who  must 
look  out  for  weapons.  Take  it  up  as 
the  letter  from  your  Father  which  is  in 


heaven,  a  letter  in  which  there  may  be 
hints  as  well  as  commands,  wishes  ob- 
scurely intimated  as  well  as  precepts 
unequivocally  expressed.  Take  it  up  in 
the  spirit  of  love  and  of  simple  anxiety 
to  discover,  that  you  may  obey,  the  will 
of  the  Lord.  Take  it  up,  not  that  you 
may  become  more  accomplished  deba- 
ters, hut  more  consistent  disciples  ;  and 
then,  it  may  be,  will  a  hundred  little  gen- 
tle and  delicate  allusions  present  them- 
selves to  your  notice,  home-touches 
which  none  but  a  Father  can  give,  and 
none  but  a  child  can  detect.  Yea,  you 
may  come  to  feel,  as  you  peruse  the  sa- 
cred page,  not  only  as  though  you  were 
hearkening  to  the  voice,  but  as  though 
you  were  studying  the  countenance  of 
your  Creator  and  Redeemer;  and  you 
will  understand  more  and  mote  of  the 
beauty  and  power  of  the  promise,  "  I 
will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye." 

Now  all  which  we  have  advanced  would 
probably  have  been  strengthened,  had. 
we  swerved  a  little  from  the  strict  oi'der 
of  our  discourse,  and  brought  the  dis- 
position, against  which  the  Psalmist 
warns  his  hearers,  into  contrast  with 
that  which  is  indirectly  commended  by 
the  voice  from  the  oracle.  Those  who 
will  yield  to  nothing  but  mathematical 
demonstrations,  may  be  likened  to  ani- 
mals who  must  be  ruled  by  bridle  and  bit. 
There  is  in  Scripture  much  that  is  adapted 
for  the  management  of  the  restive  and 
stubborn  ;  but  its  general  character  is 
that  of  a  document  designed  for  the  do- 
cile and  meek  ;  and  accordingly  much 
of  its  instruction  will  be  missed,  if  you 
yield  only  to  the  hand,  and  will  not  fol- 
low the  eye.  We  shall  not,  however, 
pursue  this  point  further :  we  have 
probably  said  enough  to  put  you  on  your 
guard  as  to  the  temper  with  which  the 
Bible  should  be  studied  ;  and  we  must 
turn  to  other  illustrations  of  our  text, 
which  are  scarcely,  if  it  all,  of  less  in- 
terest and  importance. 

We  would  observe  to  you,  that  there 
are  few  doctrines  with  which  the  Chris- 
tian would  be  less  willing  to  part,  than 
with  that  of  a  particular  providence,  a 
providence  of  which  himself  individual- 
ly is  unweariedly  the  object,  so  that  the 
minutest  thing  which  concerns  him  is 
noted  and  ordered  from  above.  We  all 
know  how  easy  and  common  it  is  to 
throw  contempt  on  this  doctrine,  and  in 
so  doing  to  assume  all  the  appearance 


236 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


of  a  zeal  for  God's  honor,  and  of  a  dis- 
like of  human  pride.  It  may  be  urged 
to  be  inconsistent  with  the  majesty  of 
the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe,  that 
He  should  give  a  close  attention  to  all 
the  petty  details  of  the  life  of  some  in- 
considerable party  :  or  it  may  be  de- 
clared to  savor  of  arrogance  and  pre- 
sumption, to  imagine  that  the  trifling 
and  every-day  incidents  which  happen 
to  ourselves,  proceed  in  any  measure 
from  the  direct  appointment  or  interfer- 
ence of  God.  And  we  have  no  wish  to 
deny  that  men  have  sometimes  so  spoken 
of  a  particular  providence,  and  asserted 
such  evidences  in  their  own  histories  or 
cases,  as  tojustifyina  degree  the  ridicule 
which  has  been  cast  upon  the  doctrine. 
But,  nevertheless,  we  feel  quite  war- 
ranted in  holding,  from  the  necessary 
attributes  of  God,  and  from  the  express 
statements  of  Scripture,  that  the  Divine 
providence  is  as  large  as  even  imagina- 
tion can  make  it,  extending  itself  to 
every  affair  of  every  being  throughout 
the  peopled  immensity.  There  cannot 
be  to  God,  the  infinite  and  uncreated, 
any  of  those  differences  between  great 
and  small  which  there  are  to  ourselves ; 
and  if  not  even  the  sparrow  can  fall  un- 
observed, who  will  suppose  that  there 
can  be  anything  too  insignificant  to  attract 
the  notice,  or  engage  the  watchfulness, 
of  the  Universal  Parent ']  We  would 
have  the  Christian  never  ashamed  of. 
referring  to  God  the  most  inconsidera- 
ble events,  and  of  looking  for  his  hand 
in  what  is  thought  trivial  and  ordinary. 
He  is  not  degrading  God,  he  is  not 
forming  an  unworthy  opinion  of  God, 
when  he  supposes  that  this  mighty  and 
inscrutable  Being,  who  formed  the  uni- 
verse at  first,  and  who  has  ever  since 
upheld  and  actuated  its  stupendous  me- 
chanism, is  about  his  path,  and  about 
his  bed,  watching  his  every  step,  and 
noting  his  every  want,  just  as  though  he 
alone  were  dependent  on  Deity,  or  alone 
needed  the  being  tended  by  an  ever- 
vigilant  guardian.  The  unworthy  opin- 
ion of  God  is  entertained  and  exhibited, 
if  he  look  for  his  hand  only  in  some  ex- 
tiaordinary  occurrence,  if  he  remove 
from  his  inspection  what  may  be  thought 
every-day  trifles,  and  suppose  it  confined 
to  events  which  may  affect  the  whole 
course  of  life.  This  is  just  bringing 
God  down  to  the  level  of  man  :  for  this 
is  giving  Him  the  same  scale  by  which 


to  measure  importance.  Whereas,  by 
supposing  nothing  too  minute  for  the 
providence  of  God,  we  set  Him  immea- 
surably above  ourselves,  at  a  point  so 
elevated,  that  He  cannot  recognize  our 
distinctions,  but  regards  as  of  equal  di- 
mensions what  to  our  view  appears  vast 
and  what  inconsiderable. 

And,  therefore,  let  the  Christian  never 
fear  that  he  may  be  offering  an  indignity 
to  the  majesty  of  God,  if,  in  all  the  de- 
tails of  his  business,  and  in  all  the  man- 
agement of  his  household,  he  be  ever 
on  the  look-out  for  signs  of  the  Divine 
presence,  and  if  he  expect  to  be  taught 
and  assisted  from  above,  in  directing 
common  affairs,  avoiding  common  dan- 
gers, and  compassing  common  ends.  He 
should  rather  fear  that  he  may  be  offend- 
ing that  Being  whose  favor  is  life,  if  he 
ever  think  any  thing  so  easy  that  it  can 
be  done  in  his  own  strength,  or  any  thing 
so  simple  that  his  own  wisdom  will  suf- 
fice. And  we  are  quite  assured — for 
this  is  the  point  to  which  these  remarks 
are  to  bring  you — that,  if  there  be  a 
habit  of  observing  the  indications  of  God's 
Providence,  or  of  looking  for  his  hand 
in  daily  occurrences,  there  will  quickly 
be  found  evidence  that  He  is  indeed 
always  at  our  side,  that  whatsoever  hap- 
pens to  us  proceeds  from  his  appointment, 
and  is  removed,  far  as  the  east  from  the 
west,  from  what  is  called  accident.  If 
you  do  not  cherish  such  a  habit,  you 
may  have  no  consciousness  of  the  inter 
ference  of  God  except  in  some  signal 
crisis,  when  a  great  disaster  is  permitted 
or  averted,  or  when  some  great  change 
passes  over  the  whole  aspect  of  your 
affairs.  There  are  times  in  almost  every 
man's  history,  at  which  he  owns  the 
workings  of  God,  and  events  which  force 
upon  his  notice  the  facts  of  the  Divine 
Providence  and  government.  But  once 
possess  yourselves  of  the  doctrine  of  ap 
universal  Providence,  and  carry  the  doc- 
trine with  you  into  every-day  life,  resting 
on  its  truth,  and  looking  for  its  evidence, 
and  we  can  be  sure,  that,  in  the  unravel- 
ling of  little  perplexities,  in  the  scatter- 
ing of  little  clouds,  in  the  smoothing  of 
little  difficulties,  in  the  communication 
of  little  benefits,  you  will  find  as  con- 
vincing proof  that  an  omniscient  omni- 
present Being  is  busied  with  your  guid- 
ance, as  though  life  were  a  series  of 
miracles,  and  every  moment  saw  you 
openly  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  a  new 


THE  POWER  OF    THE  EYE. 


237 


peril.  And  to  rhoso  who  accustom  them- 
selves in  all  humility  to  this  tracing  in 
every  thing  the  Providence  of  God,  there 
will  he  vouchsafed  such  guidance  through 
the  bearing  of  events,  such  intimations 
in  the  form  and  complexion  of  common 
occurrences,  as  will  generally  suffice  to 
keep  them  in  the  best  path,  when  less 
watchful  persons  would  be  at  a  loss  for 
direction.  He  who  is  always  noting  the 
Divine  Providence,  will  grow  so  used  to 
its  workings,  as  to  be  able,  in  a  measure, 
to  prepare  for  the  future  from  what  he 
has  marked  in  the  past  and  the  present. 

And  it  is  all  this  which  is  so  beauti- 
fully indicated  by  the  promise  of  our 
text.  It  is  not  simply  a  promise  that 
the  eye  of  God  shall  be  upon  us  ;  for 
that  were  only  a  declaration,  however 
striking  and  expressive,  of  the  universal 
Providence  of  Him  who  neither  slumbers 
nor  sleeps.  It  is  a  promise  that  we  shall 
be  guided  by  this  eye  :  but  such  a  pro- 
mise supposes  us  to  be  looking  at  the 
eye  :  it  is  not  enough  for  the  purposes 
of  guidance,  that  the  eye  be  fixed  on  us  : 
our  own  eye  must  also  be  fixed  upon 
God  :  and  it  is  only,  so  to  speak,  when 
the  two  eyes  meet,  that  we  can  gather 
instruction  as  to  the  way  in  which  to  walk. 
And  again  must  we  remind  you  of  the 
difference  between  the  voice  and  the  eye. 
if  God  promised  to  guide  us  with  his 
voice,  our  being  guided  might  not  depend 
on  our  being  always  on  the  watch.  The 
voice  might  foi'ce  attention  from  the 
careh-ss  :  it  is  not  indispensable  that  we 
be  always  in  a  listening  posture,  in  order 
to  our  catching  the  words  of  a  speaker. 
But  the  case  is  altogether  different,  if  we 
are  to  be  guided  by  the  eye.  Here  the 
looking  posture  is  altogether  indispen- 
sable ;  and  it  is  only  so  far  as  this  posture 
is  rigidly  maintained  that  we  can  learn 
from  the  directing  glance  which  turn  to 
take. 

So  that,  if  you  dismiss  for  a  moment  the 
figurative  expression,  and  think  only  on 
the  truth  which  the  emblem  conveys,  you 
are  taught  that  those  who  would  be  led 
by  their  Maker,  must  be  ever  on  the 
watch  for  intimations  of  his  will,  not  ex- 
pecting notices  such  as  even  the  least 
observant  must  mark,  but  such  rather  as 
all  but  the  vigilant  may  readily  overlook. 
In  the  little  turns  and  shiftings  of  every- 
day things,  in  the  motions,  as  it  were,  of 
leaves,  and  in  the  fallings  of  the  dew, 
must    they    be    tracing  the    unwearied 


Providence  of  the  Almighty,  and  reading 
his  directions  to  themselves.  These  are 
his  glances,  the  expressions  of  his  coun- 
tenance, the  movements  of  his  eye.  Oh  ! 
not  when  He  is  walking  the  heaven  in 
his  magnificence,  robed  in  hurricane,  and 
speaking  in  thunder,  is  He  leading  man 
with  his  eye ;  but  rather  when  in  the 
solitude  of  a  cottage,  He  is  showing  some 
prayerful  and  simple-hearted  peasant,  to 
whom  every  sprig  shoots  by  God,  and 
every  pin  falls  by  God,  how  he  may  best 
extricate  himself  from  a  difficulty,  or 
provide  against  a  calamity.  You  know 
not  how  you  are  involving  yourselves  in 
perplexities,  and  depriving  yourselves  of 
comfort,  through  the  not  cultivating  such 
a  habit  of  communion  with  God,  as  would 
cause  you  to  feel  continually  in  his  pre- 
sence, and  directed  by  his  Providence. 
You  oblige  Him,  as  it  were,  to  use  harsh 
measures  with  you,  to  compel  your  at- 
tention by  something  startling  and  severe, 
because  you  will  not  observe  those  gentle 
indications  of  his  nearness,  those  quiet 
suggestions  of  his  will,  which,  like  a  ges- 
ture or  a  glance,  are  not  the  less  expres- 
sive, because  so  tranquil  and  silent.  And 
our  earnest  desire  for  you  is,  that  you 
may  not  only  be  brought  to  the  feeling 
that  God's  eye  is  ever  upon  you — for  this 
might  merely  produce  uneasiness,  the 
sense  of  being  watched — but  that  you 
may  habitually  be  observant  of  that  eye, 
so  that,  whilst  it  rests  on  you  in  unwea- 
ried inspection,  yours  may  rest  on  it  in 
unwearied  expectation.  You  quite 
know,  you  quite  feel,  what  would  be 
meant,  were  we  to  speak  of  an  indi- 
vidual as  guided  by  the  eye  of  a  parent 
or  kinsman.  You  would  understand  at 
once  that  the  parent  or  kinsman,  though 
he  might  occasionally  deliver  explict  di- 
rections, more  frequently  gave  nothing 
but  silent  intimations,  leaving  his  wishes 
to  be  gathered  from  minute  signs,  and 
momentary  tokens,  which  would  not  es- 
cape the  keenness  of  affection,  though 
they  might  be  wholly  overlooked  by  the 
unattached  hireling. 

There  is  a  great  deal  said  as  to  the 
language  of  the  eye  :  and  if  you  think 
for  a  moment  on  the  look  which  Christ 
cast  upon  Peter,  when  he  had  just  ut- 
tered his  third  and  vehement  denial,  a 
look  which  quite  subdued  the  recreant 
Apostle,  and  sent  him  forth  to  seek  a 
place  where  he  mi^ht  weep  in  an  agony 
of  shame    and  remorse,  you   will  admit 


238 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


that  this  language  may  indeed  be  mar- 
vellously powerful,  and  go  as  deep  into 
the  heart  as  the  most  penetrating  that 
ever  proceeds  from  the  tongue.  By  and 
through  this  language,  as  we  have  just 
said,  may  a  child  or  a  friend  be  effec- 
tually guided  ;  and  you  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  the  terms,  so  to 
speak,  on  which  the  child  and  parent 
are,  if  we  say  that  the  looks  of  the  one 
are  sufficient  for  the  direction  of  the 
other.  And  we  wish  that  it  might  be 
thus  between  you  and  God.  We  wish 
that  you  might  not  be  those  cold  and 
hard-minded  servants,  who  must  have 
every  word  written  down  before  they 
will  comply,  and  who  think  themselves 
required  to  do  nothing  for  which  there 
is  not,  in  so  many  syllables,  a  direction 
which  it  is  impossible  to  overlook  01 
evade.  We  wish  you  rather  to  be  like 
one  of  those  devoted  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, who  gaze  on  the  countenance  of 
the  one  whom  they  love  and  revere, 
eager  to  save  him,  as  it  were,  the  trouble 
of  speaking,  and  to  learn  his  wishes  ere 
they  can  be  breathed.  We  desire  this 
lor  you,  not  merely  because  it  is  far  bet- 
ter for  you  to  stand  to  God  in  the  rela- 
tion of  children  than  of  servants,  but 
because  it  is  the  Divine  method  to  teach 
much  through  a  look,  and  therefore  you 
may  remain  uninstructed  if  you  will  take 
only  words.  There  are  striking  and 
startling  appointments  of  the  Providence 
of  God,  and  these  are  his  voice  ;  but 
there  are  noiseless  and  more  common 
orderiugs  of  that  Providence,  and  these 
are  his  glance.  If  you  will  only  attend 
to  the  former,  you  will  wander  in  a 
wrong  path,  till  scared  as  by  the  shout 
of  a  toe  :  but  if  you  are  habitually  regard- 
ful of  the  latter,  you  can  scarcely  fail  to 
feel  always  under  the  leadings  of  a  friend. 
For  come  with  us  now,  and  let  us  go 
with  David  to  the  oracle,  that  we  may 
hear,  in  sounds  breathed  from  the  reces- 
ses of  the  sanctuary,  in  what  way  God 
will  promise  to  lead  on  his  people.  We 
prostrate  ourselves  before  the  mysterious 
shrine,  and  we  propose,  in  reverence  and 
humility,  our  question  as  to  the  mode  in 
which,  sojourners  as  we  are  on  earth, 
we  may  look  to  be  directed  by  Him 
who  dwelleth  in  the  heavens.  "  Lord  of 
all  power  and  might,  wilt  Thou  inform 
us  of  thy  will,  through  the  fearful  tread 
of  thy  feet,  as  Thou  dost  pass  through 
the  fields  of  immensity  ;  or  through  the 


waving  of  thine  arm,  as  Thou  dost  mar- 
shal before  thee,  and  around  thee,  the 
troop  of  brilliant  stars ;  or  through  the 
rushings  of  thy  voice,  heard  above  all 
human  sound,  whose  whisper  raised  an 
universe,  and  could  reduce  it  into  no- 
thingness ]  Is  it  thus,  in  modes  which 
even  the  careless  must  observe,  and  the 
proud  cannot  mistake,  that  Thou  wilt 
make  known  thy  pleasure  to  those  whom 
Thou  dost  love  'i  "  Nay — it  is  a  still 
small  voice  which  is  breathed  responsive- 
ly  from  the  oracle,  the  quietness  of  tone 
indicating  the  nature  of  the  reply  :  and 
never  henceforwards  let  us  expect  di- 
rection in  our  difficulties,  and  instruc- 
tion in  our  ignorance,  if  we  do  not  habit- 
uate ourselves  to  the  momentarily  wait- 
ing upon  God,  as  those  who  feel,  that  in 
missing  a  glance,  they  may  miss  a  lesson, 
seeing  that  the  still  small  voice  gives 
utterance  to  this  promise,  "  I  will  guide 
thee  with  mine  eye." 

Now  you  cannot  have  failed  to  ob- 
serve, that,  throughout  this  examination 
into  the  promise  of  guidance  which  pro- 
ceeds from  the  oracular  voice,  we  have 
been  insisting  on  the  necessity  of  a  meek 
and  teachable  disposition.  The  whole 
bent  of  our  discourse  has  been  towards 
the  showing  you,  that  the  promise,  made 
on  God's  part,  supposes  on  our  own  a 
particular  temper  and  habit,  so  that  it 
can  only  take  effect  where  this  temper 
and  habit  exist.  You  cannot  be  too  fre- 
quently reminded  of  this  peculiarity  in 
the  passage — there  cannot  be  guidance 
by  the  eye,  unless  there  be  constant  at- 
tention in  the  one  party,  as  well  as  con- 
stant superintendence  in  the  other.  And 
when  you  have  observed  that  the  pro- 
mise virtually  inculcates  a  particular  dis- 
position, the  disposition  of  watchfulness, 
of  readiness  to  note  God's  hand  in  the 
minutest  occurrences,  and  to  search  out 
the  lightest  intimations  of  his  will,  you 
must  feel  the  force  of  the  Psalmist's 
admonition,  which  the  oracular  reply 
caused  him  to  address  to  the  by-standers. 
This  admonition,  as  we  have  already  re- 
marked to  you,  warns  against  a  disposi- 
tion which  is  just  the  opposite  to  that 
which  the  promise  requires.  If  guided 
by  the  eye,  I  am  ready  to  follow  the 
most  gentle  indication  of  the  will  of  my 
leader;  but  I  may  refuse  to  be  guided 
by  the  eye;  I  may  give  no  heed  to  a 
look;  and  thus  may  I  be  like  to  the 
horse,  and  the  mule,  which  have  no  un- 


THE   POWER  OF  THE   EVE. 


239 


ilerstanding,  and  which  will  go  only  as 
compelled  by  the  bit  and  the  bridle. 

And  you  naust  see,  that,  founded  as 
the  admonition  is  upon  the  promise,  it 
is  implied  that  God  desires  to  direct  us 
through  quiet  and  tender  dealings,  and 
that,  if  He  have  recourse  to  harsher,  it 
is  because  our  obduracy  and  inattention 
render  needful  such  treatment.  There 
is  something  very  affecting  in  this  con- 
sideration :  God  only  knows  how  much 
of  severe  discipline  we  bring  upon  our- 
selves, through  refusing  to  be  taught 
through  the  gentler.  We  now,  you  see, 
take  guidance  by  the  eye,  as  indicating 
a  course  of  tender  measures  ;  for  though 
undoubtedly  there  may  be  severity  in  a 
look,  yet  guidance  by  the  eye,  as  con- 
trasted with  guidance  by  the  bridle  and 
the  bit,  must  be  considered  as  expressive 
of  gentleness,  in  opposition  to  roughness 
and  force.  God,  if  we  would  but  per- 
mit Him,  would  lead  us  by  his  eye,  that 
eye  which  is  the  light  of  an  extended 
creation,  and  from  which,  as  it  rests 
complacently  upon  them  in  their  ardent 
waitings  round  his  throne,  the  angel  and 
and  the  archangel  draw  their  rich  hap- 
piness. "  He  doth  not  afflict  willingly, 
nor  grieve  the  children  of  men  :  "  and 
we  might  almost  say — if  we  did  not  fear 
to  attribute  to  God  what  consists  not 
with  his  perfections — that  the  eye  whose 
gentle  glances  we  have  refused  to  fol- 
low, is  dimmed  with  tears,  when  the 
voice  must  speak  sternly,  and  the  hand 
rise  in  chastisement.  But,  alas  !  man, 
in  the  expressive  language  of  the  book 
of  Job,  is  "  born  like  the  wild  ass's  colt ;" 
and  how  is  a  look  to  tame  what  is  so 
restive  and  ungovernable  1  The  look  is 
tried,  but  tried  commonly  without  effect. 
The  glance  of  the  eye  is  in  the  warm 
sunbeam  ;  and  the  smile  of  the  face  is 
on  those  many  mercies  which  spread 
gladness  and  peace  through  unbroken 
families  :  but  the  sunbeam  wakes  no 
love  to  God,  and  the  mercies  fail  to  at- 
tract man  to  his  Maker. 

And  what  is  to  be  done,  when  in  vain 
hath  (rod  looked  down  from  heaven,  in 
vain  turned  upon  us  his  eye  of  loving- 
kindness,  hoping  that  we  would  mark 
its  beaming  emanations,  and  trace  them 
back  till  we  were  lost  in  Himself]  Shall 
He  leave  us  to  run  unrestrained  in  the 
wilderness,  goaded  by  our  own  passions, 
and  hastening  to  perdition  1  He  loves 
us  too  well  for  this  :  He  would  not  have 


us  perish  without  an  effort  forourdeliv 
erance.  But  since  gentle  means  have 
failed,  He  must  now  adopt  harsh  :  the 
hand  must  be  tried,  where  the  eye  has 
not  succeeded,  and  the  bridle  be  fasten- 
ed, where  the  look  has  been  scorned. 
We  pretend  not  to  say  that  this  might 
be  illustrated  from  the  history  of  every 
individual  :  but  probably  the  cases  are  far 
more  frequent  than  are  commonly  sup- 
posed, in  which  the  guidance  of  the  bit 
has  been  made  necessary  by  disobedience 
to  the  guidance  of  the  eye.  Why  has 
poverty  come,  like  an  armed  man,  on  an 
individual  who  was  long  blessed  with 
prosperity  1  Ah  !  the  prosperity  which 
was  nothing  but  the  graciousness  of 
God's  countenance,  did  not  lead  Him  to 
the  Author  and  Giver  of  every  good  gift 
and  of  every  perfect ;  and  therefore  is 
adversity  being  tried  :  perchance  that 
hard  dealing  will  turn  him  from  the 
world,  and  direct  him  towards  heaven. 
Why  has  affliction  come  heavily  on  that 
mother,  who  had  garnered  up  her  heart 
in  her  only  son,  and  now  must  see  him 
carried  out  to  the  grave  1  Ah  !  her  child. 
in  whom,  as  the  sunny  smile  played  upon 
his  face,  she  ought  to  have  viewed  the 
reflected  glance  of  her  Maker,  wooing  her 
to  Himself,  did  but  bind  her  to  the  pre- 
sent world,  in  place  of  pointing  her  to  a 
brighter:  and  now  she  who  gave  no 
heed  to  that  look  of  Divine  tenderness 
which  was  embodied  in  her  cherub-like 
boy,  must  undergo  the  harsh  processes  of 
constraint  and  correction,  if  peradven- 
ture  they  may  guide  her  to  Him  who 
wounds  only  that  He  may  heal. 

It  would  not  of  course  become  us,  as 
we  have  already  implied,  to  conclude,  in 
every  case  where  we  see  the  bridle  em- 
ployed, that  it  is  enrployed  only  because 
the  eye  has  not  been  watched  and  obey- 
ed. But  still,  when  you  observe  how  ex- 
press are  the  assertions  of  Scripture  as 
to  the  unwillingness  of  God  to  apportion 
pain  tf)  his  creatures,  you  must  allow 
that  suffering  is  permitted  because  no- 
thing hut  suffering  will  suffice;  and  you 
may  suppose,  that,  in  general,  the  harsh 
measure  is  not  likely  to  be  tried,  till  the 
gentle  has  been  tried  without  success. 

And  this  is  simply  what  we  think  in- 
dicated by  the  promise  in  the  first  verse 
ofourtext,  when  taken  in  connexion  with 
the  admonition  in  the  second.  We  leave 
you  to  draw  for  yourselves  the  practical 
inferences  from  our  previous  i ! '  •  -trations 


240 


THE  POWER  OF  THE  EYE. 


of  the  promise  in  question.  We  leave 
you  to  conclude  the  necessity  of  a  prompt 
and  teachable  temper,  if  you  would  study 
the  Scriptures  with  profit,  the  temper  of 
those  who  aie  perusing  a  document  from 
one  whom  they  love,  who  are  anxious 
only  to  ascertain  his  wishes,  and  who  are 
therefore  as  ready  to  act  upon  hints  as 
upon  explicit  commands.  Neither  do  we 
stay  now  to  insist  further  on  the  import- 
ance of  seeking  God's  help  in  the  very 
smallest  things,  and  of  striving  to  trace 
the  leadings  of  his  Providence  in  simple, 
every-day  occurrences.  But  this  fresh 
view  of  the  promise,  obtained  from  re- 
garding it  in  connexion  with  the  Psalm- 
ist's admonition,  is  so  rife  with  touching 
interest  and  instruction,  that  we  must  en- 
treat you  to  be  stedfastin  its  contempla- 
tion, and  faithful  in  its  remembrance. 
If  we  would  preserve  our  blessings,  we 
must  see  to  it  that  these  blessings  conduct 
us  to  God.  This  is  the  inference,  this  the 
lesson.  We  may  consider  mercies  as  the 
beamings  of  the  Almighty's  eye,  when 
the  light  of  his  countenance  is  lifted  up 
upon  us  ;  and  that  man  is  guided  by  the 
eye,  whom  mercies  attract  and  attach  to 
his  Maker.  But  oh  !  let  us  refuse  to  be 
guided  by  the  eye,  and  it  will  become 
needful  that  we  be  curbed  with  the  hand. 
If  we  abuse  our  mercies,  if  we  forget 
their  Author,  and  yield  Him  not  grate- 
fully the  homage  of  our  affections,  we 
do  but  oblige  Him,  by  his  love  for  our 
souls,  to  apportion  us 'disaster  and  trouble. 
Complain  not,  then,  that  there  is  so  much 
of  sorrow  in  your  lot ;  but  consider 
rather  how  much  of  it  you  may  have  wil- 
fully brought  upon  yourselves.  Listen 
to  the  voice  of  God,  "  I  will  guide  thee 
with  mine  eye  " — mine  eye  whose  glance 
gilds  all  that  is  beautiful,  whose  light 
disperses  all  darkness,  prevents  all  dan- 
ger, diffuses  all  happiness.  And  wliy 
then  is  it  that  ye  are  sorely  disquieted  1 
why  is  it  that  "  fear  and  the  pit  "  are 
so  often  upon  you  ;  that  one  blessing 
after  another  disappears  from  your  cir- 
cle ;  and  that  God  seems  to  deal  with 
you  as  with  the  wayward  and  unruly,  on 
whom  any  thing  of  gentleness  would  be 
altogether  lost  i  Ah  !  if  you  would  ac- 
count for  many  mercies  that  have  de- 
parted, if  you  would  insure  permanence 
to  those  that  are  yet  left,  examine  how 
deficient  you  may  hitherto  have  been, 
and  strive  to  be  more  diligent  for  the 
future,  in  obeying  an  admonition  which 


implies  that  we  should  be  guided  by  the 
soft  lustres  of  the  eye,  if  our  obduracy 
did  not  render  indispensable  the  harsh 
constraints  of  the  rein,  "  Be  ye  not  as 
the  horse,  or  as  the  mule,  whose  mouth 
must  be  held  in  with  bit  and  bridle." 

And,  now,  have  we  any  other  illus- 
tration to  offer  of  our  text,  or  any  other 
inference  to  deduce  from  it.  whether  of 
doctrine  or  reproof]  Indeed,  we  know 
not  that  there  yet  remains  any  other  im- 
portant view  of  a  passage  which,  though 
easily  overlooked,  seems  to  us  amongst 
the  most  touching  and  expressive  to  be 
found  in  the  Bible.  But  in  pondering 
the  words  on  which  we  have  discoursed, 
and  considering  their  bearings  on  other 
parts  of  Scripture,  we  could  not  help 
connecting  them  with  that  awful  cry  in 
the  book  of  Revelation,  which  is  uttered 
by  the  impenitent  when  overtaken  by 
judgment,  and  which  passionately  in- 
vokes shelter  from  the  rocks  and  the 
hills,  that  there  may  be  concealment 
from  the  face  of  Him  who  sito  upon  the 
throne.  We  are  always  much  struck  at 
the  power  thus  ascribed  to  the  face.  It 
is  said  of  the  Judge,  in  a  most  sublime 
expression,  "  From  whose  face  the  earth 
and  the  heaven  fled  away ;  "  and  it  is 
from  the  face,  as  we  have  just  quoted, 
that  the  shrieking  crowd  implore  the 
being  hid.  It  is  as  though  a  look  would 
then  be  enough  :  there  will  be  no  need 
for  the  tongue  :  the  eye  will  condemn, 
and  send  forth  consternation  throughout 
the  hosts  of  the  rebellious.  And  if  God 
be  ready  now  to  guide  us  with  his  eye, 
and  if  hereafter,  supposing  us  to  follow 
some  other  leader,  we  shall  shrink  from 
his  eye,  have  we  not  not  an  exemplifi- 
cation of  retributive  justice,  an  evidence 
how  thoroughly  abused  mercies,  and 
neglected  privileges,  will  rise  upas  wit- 
nesses against  us,  so  that  the  Divine 
dealings  with  us  here  shall  have  only  to 
be  arrayed,  in  order  to  our  sinking,  self- 
sentenced,  into  the  pit  of  the  lost?  The 
eye  which  is  upon  the  sinful  now  to 
conduct,  will  be  upon  them  to  condemn  ; 
and  however  easy  it  may  be  to  resist  the 
guidance  of  that  eye  whilst  it  beams  forth 
in  tenderness,  it  will  be  impossible  to 
withstand  its  decree  of  banishment  when 
lit  up  with  anger.  Yes,  it  may  be  the 
terrible  thing  at  the  judgment,  to  be 
forced  to  look  on  our  benefactor,  to  be- 
hold Him  face  to  face,  to  meet  his  eye ! 
Any  thing  rather  than  this — even  now, 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


241 


if  we  have  bean  ungrateful  to  a  friend, 
if  we  have  slighted  his  kindness  and  re- 
paid it  with  injury,  we  are  troubled  by 
his  glance,  and  would  do  much  to  avoid 
the  reproachful  yet  sorrowful  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance.  And  to  see 
hereafter  that  gracious  Being  who  has 
unweariedly  studied  our  good,  who  has 
spared  no  pains  that  He  might  turn  us 
from  evil,  who  has  striven  by  all  imagin- 
able means  to  lead  us  to  happiness,  to 
see  Him,  and  know  Him,  with  the  frown 
upon  his  brow — terror  of  terrors ! 
Even  love  is  armed  against  us,  and  we 


feel  in  an  instant  all  the  anguish  of  de- 
spair. "  Be  ye  not  as  the  horse  or  as  the 
mule," — with  what  emphasis  come  these 
words,  when  we  think  on  the  eye  ol 
God  as  passing  sentence,  by  its  glance 
of  reproach,  on  the  scornful  and  the  ob- 
durate. "  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine 
eye  " — can  these  gracious  syllables  be 
ever  taken  as  a  threat  ?  Alas !  yes. 
That  eye  would  now  guide  you,  by  its 
look  of  love,  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven; 
but  resist  it,  and  that  eye  shall  direct 
you,  by  its  look  of  wrath,  to  the  "  fire 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 


SERMON    XIII 


PILATE'S  WIFE. 


he  was  set  down  on  the  judgment  seat,  his  wife  sent  unto  him,  saying,  Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with  that 
just  man:  for  I  have  suffered  many  things  this  day  in  a  dream  because  of  him." — Matt,  xxvii.  19. 


We  need  hardly  tell  you  that  these 
words  have  reference  to  Pilate,  the  Ro- 
man governor  of  Judea,  by  whose  direc- 
tion or  consent  our  blessed  Lord  was 
crucified.  There  have  been  many  dis- 
putes in  regard  of  certain  parts  of  Pilate's 
conduct ;  but  all  seem  to  agree  in  con- 
demning him,  on  the  whole,  as  having  act- 
ed with  signal  injustice.  He  would  seem 
to  have  been  a  weak  as  well  as  a  wicked 
person  :  at  least,  his  wickedness  forced 
him  to  assume  all  the  appearance  of 
weakness — for  having  irritated  and  dis- 
gusted the  Jewish  people,  over  whom 
he  was  set,  by  extortion  and  cruelty,  he 
was  in  dread  lest  their  complaints  should 
procure  his  removal  from  his  govern- 
ment ;  and  therefore  he  did  not  dare  to 
thwart  their  will,  even  when  acknowl- 
edging to  himself  its  baseness  and  un- 
reasonableness. You  observe,  through- 
out the  whole  account  of  Pilate's  deal- 
31 


ings  with  Christ,  that  he  was  thoroughly 
satisfied  as  to  the  innocence  of  the 
prisoner,  and  the  malice  of  his  accusei'S. 
The  more  he  examined  Him,  the  more 
does  he  seem  to  have  deepened  in  the 
conviction  that  there  was  no  fault  in 
Him,  and  to  have  become  anxious  to 
procure  his  enlargement.  And  when 
at  length  he  yielded,  and  gave  up  Je- 
sus to  the  will  of  his  persecutors,  it 
was  avowedly  because  overborne  by  the 
cry  for  his  destruction,  and  in  no  degree 
because  persuaded  of  his  being  worthy 
of  death. 

There  never  perhaps  was  a  more  sin- 
gular scene  than  that  exhibited  when 
the  governor  surrendered  up  our  Lord. 
Wishing  to  show  by  a  most  significative 
action  his  firm  belief  in  the  innocence  of 
Christ,  Pilate  "  took  water,  and  washed 
his  hands  before  the  multitude,  saying, 
I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just 


242 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


person  :  seeye  to  it."  What  a  scene  I  the 
judge  acquits  the  prisoner,  and  at  the  same 
time  delivers  Him  to  death.  He  wishes 
to  have  no  share  in  the  murder  about 
to  be  committed,  though  it  could  not 
be  committed  but  by  his  order  or  concur- 
rence. Alas!  for  human  inconsistency  : 
Pilate  is  not  the  only  man,  who  whilst 
sinning  against  conscience,  has  contriv- 
ed some  excuse,  and  thought  both  to  do 
the  deed  and  prevent  its  consequences. 
But  how  striking  was  the  testimony 
given  to  our  Lord.  He  was  to  die  as  a 
malefactor :  but  who  ever  died  as  a 
malefactor,  before  or  since,  with  the 
judge's  verdict  in  his  favor  of  his  being 
a  "just  person  1  "  It  was  wondrously 
ordered  by  God,  that  the  enemies  of 
Christ  should  be  witnesses  to  his  right- 
eousness. Judas,  who  betrayed  Him, 
could  furnish  no  accusation,  and  hanged 
himself  through  remorse  when  He  saw 
Him  condemned.  Pilate  who  allowed 
his  crucifixion,  stood  forward  amongst 
the  multitude  who  were  clamorous  for 
his  death,  and  declared,  even  whilst 
consenting  to  their  wish,  that  He  who 
called  Himself  their  King  had  done 
nothing  to  justify  his  being  made  their 
victim.  But  the  testimony  thus  borne 
to  the  Redeemer,  however  irresistible, 
in  no  degree  takes  off  from  the  sin  of 
those,  who,  having  given  it,  were  ac- 
cessory to  his  death.  Indeed,  so  far  as 
Pilate  is  concerned,  it  is  very  evident 
that  what  makes  him  immeasurably 
guilty,  is  the  consciousness,  which  he 
took  no  pains  to  conceal,  of  the  perfect 
innocence  of  Christ.  Had  he  had  his 
doubts,  had  he  fult,  that,  though  appear- 
ances were  in  favor  of  our  Lord,  there 
were  circumstances  of  which  the  Jews 
were  better  judges  than  himself,  and 
which  might  perhaps  warrant  his  con- 
demnation,-there  would  have  been  some 
shadow  of  excuse  for  his  yielding  to 
the  importunity  of  the  priests  and  the 
people.  But  not  a  syllable  of  the  kind 
can  be  alleged.  The  Roman  governor 
was  as  certain  of  Christ's  innocence  as 
of  his  own  existence  :  he  had  not  the 
remotest  suspicion  that  He  might  be 
guilty  of  anything  which  merited  death  : 
and  therefore,  in  suffering  Him  to  be 
crucified,  he  passed  his  own  condemna- 
tion, and  registered  his  sentence  as  wil- 
fully unjust,  having  by  his  vices  so 
placed  himself  in  the  power  of  the 
wicked,  that,  in  spite  of  the  upbraidings 


of  conscience,   he   must  join   them  in 
their  wickedness. 

We  speak,  you  observe,  of  the  up- 
braidings of  conscience :  for  the  ob- 
servable thing  is,  that  this  great  princi- 
ple was  not  dormant  in  Pilate,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  acted  with  faithfulness  and 
vigor.  Whatever  the  sensuality  and 
tyranny  of  this  Roman,  he  had  evident- 
ly not  succeeded  in  silencing  conscience  : 
he  had  not  reached  the  state,  sometimes 
reached  by  the  wicked,  when  wrong 
actions  seem  preceded  by  no  repug- 
nance, and  followed  by  no  remorse. 
Through  all  the  proceedings  against  Je- 
sus in  which  he  had  part,  there  was 
manifestly  a  great  struggle  in  his  breast ; 
and  it  was  only  a  sense  of  danger,  the 
fear  of  offending  the  people,  and  of 
giving  ground  for  an  accusation  of  neg- 
lect of  the  interests  of  Caesar,  which 
finally  prevailed  against  the  sense  of 
what  was  right,  and  induced  him  to  con- 
sent to  the  crucifixion  of  Christ.  And 
this  it  is,  as  we  have  said,  which  fixes 
upon  Pilate  so  enormous  a  criminality. 
Though  backed  by  his  legions  so  that 
he  might  have  repressed  any  tumult  ex- 
cited by  his  refusal  to  do  wrong,  he 
knowingly  and  wilfully  committed  an 
act  of  monstrous  injustice  and  cruelty, 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  transient 
popularity,  or  averting  a  momentary 
anger.  He  could  hardly  have  been  ig- 
norant that  the  very  multitude,  which 
were  now  vociferating  "  Crucify  him, 
crucify  him,"  had,  but  a  few  days  be- 
fore, rent  the  air  with  their  hosannahs 
as  Christ  entered  Jerusalem;  and  he 
might  therefore  have  calculated  that,  if 
he  shielded  Jesus  for  a  while  from  the 
popular  fury,  he  should  see  Him  again 
the  object  of  the  popular  favor.  But 
no  :  he  would  run  no  risk  :  and,  there- 
fore, like  many  others  who  sacrifice  the 
future  to  the  present,  he  crushed  his 
conscience  and  himself  by  the  same 
desperate  act. 

Neither  is  this  all :  we  do  not  think 
that  the  enormity  of  Pilate  is  to  be  es- 
timated from  the  mere  resistance  of  con- 
science. There  is  a  circumstance  in  the 
narrative  of  this  guilty  man,  which  scarce- 
ly seems  to  us  to  obtain  its  due  share  of 
attention,  but  which,  in  our  view  of  the 
matter,  aggravates  immeasurably  his 
crime.  And.  this  is  the  circumstance 
related  in  our  text,  which  is  omitted  in- 
deed by  the  other  Evangelists,  and  re- 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


243 


ceives  no  comment  even  from  St.  Mat- 
thew. At  the  very  moment  that  he  sat 
down  on  the  judgment  seat,  already  per- 
suaded of  the  innocence  of  Christ,  but 
perplexed  by  the  clamor  of  the  multi- 
tude, there  came  to  Pilate  a  message 
from  Ins  wife,  a  message  of  entreaty  and 
warning,  declaratory  of  her  having  had 
some  fearful  dream  or  vision  in  refer- 
ence to  Christ,  and  beseeching  him  to 
take  no  measures  against  that  just  or 
righteous  man.  We  know  nothing  in 
regard  of  Pilate's  wife — she  may  have 
before  been  inclined  to  the  receiving  Je- 
sus as  a  Prophet ;  or,  which  is  the  more 
probable,  she  may  have  known  or  cared 
nothing  respecting  Him,  till,  through  a 
supernatural  visitation,  she  learnt  his 
innocence,  and  the  peril  of  acting  as  his 
enemy.  This  is  comparatively  unim- 
portant. It  is  certain  that  God  specially 
interfered  to  work  in  her  mind  convic- 
tion on  these  points,  and  that  she  in  con- 
sequence sent  a  distinct  and  urgent  mes- 
sage to  her  husband,  which  reached  him 
at  the  critical  moment  when  he  was  in- 
cii.ied  to  waver  between  what  he  felt  to 
be  duty,  and  what  he  thought  to  be  in- 
terest. There  is  nothing  told  us  as  to 
the  manner  in  which  Pilate  received  the 
communication.  But  forasmuch  as  he 
js  described  as  taking  increased  pains 
alter  wards  to  prevail  on  the  multitude 
to  forego  their  bloody  purpose,  we  may 
suppose  that  it  was  not  without  effect; 
bur  that,  corroborating  his  own  convic- 
tion, it  added  to  his  earnestness  to  de- 
liver Christ,  and  therefore  to  his  guilti- 
ness, when  he  nevertheless  abandoned 
Him. 

And  this,  as  we  have  stated,  is,  in  our 
view,  the  most  singular  circumstance  in 
wliat  is  narrated  of  Pilate,  the  most  re- 
markable  in  itself,  and  the  most  condem- 
natory of  the  unjust  and  dissolute  judge. 
We  do  not  know  whether  we  shall  be  able 
to  make  palpable  to  you  all  the  instructive- 
uess  and  energy  contained  in  an  inci- 
dent to  which  you  may  not  have  been 
wont  to  attach  much  importance.  But 
we  will  make  the  endeavor  :  we  will 
consider  God  as  acting  upon  Pilate  to 
deter  him  from  committing  a  great 
crime,  and  therefore  to  leave  him  inex- 
cusable in  the  commission  ;  and  we 
will  strive  to  show  you — and  that  too  in 
a  manner  which  shall  bring  certain  great 
practical  lessons  home  to  yourselves — 
how  this  was  emphatically  done,   when 


the  wife  of  the  Roman  governor  sent  to 
tell  him  of  her  vision,  and  to  beseech 
him  that  he  would  abstain  from  all  vio- 
lence against  that  righteous  man  Christ. 
Now  there  is  unquestionably  a  diffi- 
culty in  reconciling  the  foreknowledge, 
and  yet  more  the  purposes  of  God  with 
the  free  agency,  and  therefore  with  the 
responsibleness  of  man.  It  certainly  is 
not  easy,  and  perhaps  with  our  contract- 
ed powers  not  possible,  to  understand 
how  men  can  be  fully  independent  in 
the  doing,  and  therefore  thoroughly 
chargeable  with  the  doing,  things  on 
which  God  has  long  before  determined, 
so  that  they  are  instruments  in  his 
hands,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  free 
agents,  following  their  own  wills,  and 
answerable  for  all  the  consequences. 
But  there  is  abundant  evidence  from 
Scripture,  and  also  from  the  nature  of 
the  case,  that  there  is  no  human  action 
which  is  not  foreseen  by  God,  which  is 
not  indeed  so  definitely  pre-ascertained 
that  it  can  be  reckoned  on  as  though 
fixed  by  an  absolute  decree,  but  which, 
all  the  while,  does  not  spring  from  the 
unbiassed  human  will,  unbiassed,  we 
mean,  in  such  sense  as  to  acquit  God 
altogether  of  being  the  author  of  evil. 
We  are  to  be  especially  careful  that  we 
never  reject  either  one  of  two  truths, 
because  we  may  be  unable  to  prove 
their  consistency  :  for  the  harmony  of 
two  truths  is  itself  a  third  truth ;  and 
whilst  our  faculties  may  be  competent 
to  the  determining  the  two,  they  may 
fail  us  when  we  would  advance  to  de- 
termine the  third.  The  foreknowledge, 
and  pre-determination  of  the  Almighty 
— this  is  a  truth  which  reason  and  reve- 
lation concur  in  setting  forth.  The  li- 
berty of  human  actions,  so  that  each  of 
us  is  decided  by  his  own  will  what  to 
do,  and  what  to  forbear — this  is  another 
truth,  demonstrable  from  the  same 
sources,  and  on  the  same  testimony. 
But  the  third  truth — namely,  that  these 
truths  are,  as  all  truths  must  be,  per- 
fectly consistent  the  one  with  the  other 
— we  may,  or  may  not,  be  able  satisfac- 
torily to  establish  this  :  but  then  you 
must  all  see  that  our  inability  to  advance 
to  a  higher  demonstration,  or  to  give 
proof  on  a  more  intricate  point,  in  no 
degree  affects  what  has  been  already 
determined,  but  rather  leaves  in  their 
integrity  the  positions  which  we  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching. 


244 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


You  will  find  it  very  important  to  bear 
this  in  mind  in  the  study  of  Scripture  : 
for  men  are  apt  to  think  that  they  must 
not  only  establish  separate  truths,  hut 
prevail  to  the  showing  how  harmonious- 
ly they  combine  :  and  if  baffled  in  this 
latter  endeavor,  they  will  take  it  as  evi- 
dence of  something-  wrong  in  their  pre- 
vious conclusions.  Whereas  this  is  far 
enough  from  being  necessarily  the  case  : 
they  may  have  been  quite  right  in  the 
respective  things  determined,  though 
those  things  form  a  paradox  which  they 
are  not  able  to  remove  :  a  paradox  is 
not  necessarily  a  contradiction,  but  may 
consist  of  true  affirmations,  each  demon- 
strable on  its  own  grounds,  though 
there  may  be  appearance  of  opposition 
between  the  two. 

And  in  regard  to  the  particular  case 
which  has  given  rise  to  these  remarks, 
you  have  evidence  the  most  decisive, 
that  God  has  nothing  to  do  with  causing 
the  wicked  actions  which  He  overrules 
or  employs,  but  that  all  the  guilt  rests 
with  men,  even  when  they  appear  in- 
dispensable to  the  bringing  round  a 
Divine  purpose.  You  can  imagine  no- 
thing more  fixed  or  predetermined,  than 
that  Christ  should  be  rejected  by  his 
own  nation,  and  finally  put  to  death 
through  their  instrumentality.  To  sup- 
pose the  Jews  receiving,  in  place  of  re- 
jecting, their  Messiah,  acknowledging  ' 
his  pretensions,  and  giving  Him  their 
allegiance  instead  of  their  scorn,  is  ap- 
parently to  suppose  the  Divine  plan 
frustrated,  and  the  whole  scheme  of 
our  redemption  brought  to  a  stand. 
Yet  you  know  that  Christ  continued  to 
the  end  entreating  his  countrymen,  en- 
deavoring by  every  possible  means  to 
lead  them  to  repentance,  dealing  with 
them  as  with  those  who  were  perfectly 
free  to  own  Him  as  their  Savior,  and 
whose  unbelief  He  ardently  longed  to 
overcome.  And  you  cannot  doubt  the 
thorough  honesty,  if  we  may  use  the 
word,  of  all  the  entreaty  and  exhorta- 
tion brought  to  bear  upon  the  Jews  ; 
though  you  may  have  a  difficulty  in  un- 
derstanding how  they  could  be  employ- 
ed in  the  face  of  a  known  certainty  that 
the  Jews  would  persevere  in  their  wick- 
edness, and  that  such  perseverance  was 
the  appointed  instrumentality  through 
which  would  be  wrought  the  oblation 
of  Christ.  It  is  equally  true  that  God 
reckoned,  so  to  speak,  on  the   wicked- 


ness of  the  Jews,  so  that,  in  one 
sense,  you  might  call  their  wickedness 
fixed  or  unavoidable ;  and  that  He 
acted  towards  them  as  quite  free  to 
choose,  so  that,  in  another  sense,  their 
wickedness  must  have  been  altogether 
wilful.  And  if  you  are  perplexed  by 
any  appearance  of  contrariety  between 
these  statements,  you  >are  not,  on  that 
account,  as  we  have  already  explained, 
to  cast  doubt  on  either  the  one  or  the 
other  ;  for  the  truths  of  the  wickedness 
having  been  so  foreknown  that  it  might 
be  reckoned  on  as  an  instrument,  and 
of  its  having  been  so  voluntary  that  it 
was  wrought  against  remonstrance,  and 
that  remonstrance  as  sincere  as  it  was 
urgent,  rest  each  on  unquestionable 
grounds,  and  are  noways  affected  by 
any  difficulty  in  the  proof  of  their 
agreement. 

And  you  have  an  equally,  if  not  a 
more,  striking  instance  in  the  history  of 
Pilate.  It  was  not  enough,  as  you  all 
know,  that  Jesus  should  die  ;  He  was  to 
die  as  a  criminal,  that  He  might  exhaust 
our  curse  through  being  made  a  curse 
for  us.  And  He  had  Himself  expressly 
marked  out  crucifixion  as  the  mode  of 
his  decease  :  so  that  to  suppose  Him 
put  to  death  in  any  othei  manner  would 
be  to  suppose  prophecy  defeated,  and 
redemption  unaccomplished.  But  He 
could  not  have  been  crucified  except 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the  Ro- 
mans ;  for  it  was  a  Roman,  and  not  a 
Jewish,  mode  of  execution,  and  requir- 
ed, in  the  largest  sense,  the  authority  of 
the  governor.  So  that  here  you  have  a 
case  in  which  you  might  almost  say  that 
the  wickedness  of  an  individual  was  in- 
dispensable to  the  purposes  of  God. 
You  cannot  see  how  the  plan  of  human 
deliverance  could  have  gone  forward,  on 
the  supposition  that  Pilate  had  been 
firm  in  defending  our  Lord.  It  rested 
altogether  with  Pilate  whether  or  no 
Christ  should  be  crucified  :  and  it  rest- 
ed, so  to  speak,  on  the  crucifixion, 
whether  or  no  the  world  should  be  re- 
deemed. And  nevertheless  there  was 
no  leaving  Pilate  to  himself,  no  with- 
drawing from  him  the  ordinary  agencies 
through  which  God  is  wont  to  influence 
the  will  of  his  creatures.  On  the  con- 
trary, extraordinary  agency  was  em- 
ployed in  addition  to  ordinary,  as  though 
God  had  resolved  to  try  every  possible 
means  of  withholding  Pilate  from  the 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


215 


Bin  which  you  pronounce  indispensa- 
ble ;  it  was  not  enough  that  conscience 
should  be  in  full  play,  though  this  of  it- 
self might  have  proved  that  (rod  was 
not  the  author  of  the  evil  which  He  made 
subservient  to  his  purposes — a  super- 
natural vision  was  vouchsafed,  and 
God  actually  departed  from  the  com- 
mon course  of  his  providence,  that  He 
might  warn  the  wavering  Roman,  and 
strengthen  him  to  do  right. 

We  do  not  know  that  you  can  any- 
where find  a  more  singular  fact.  On  the 
one  hand,  you  have  the  whole  scheme 
of  redemption  dependent,  we  may  say, 
on  Pilate's  ordering  the  crucifixion  of 
Christ ;  on  the  other,  you  have  a  direct 
interference  of  God,  to  procure  that 
Pilate  should  order  his  release.  There 
is  no  denying  the  appearance  of  contra- 
diction ;  but  the  known  attributes  of 
God  are  our  pledge  that  there  is  but  the 
appearance,  and  not  the  reality.  We 
must  again  have  recourse  to  the  rule 
which  has  been  established,  and  not 
think  it  reason  for  questioning  either  of 
two  truths,  that  we  cannot  prove  their 
agreement,  which  is  a  third  and  a  deep- 
er. It  was  foreknown  by  God — and 
the  foreknowledge  made  the  event  as 
certain  as  a  positive  decree — that  Pi- 
late would  yield  to  the  clamor  of  the 
Jews,  and  surrender  Christ  to  their  ma- 
lice. But  this  did  not  prevent  God 
from  using  extraordinary  as  well  as  or- 
dinary means  to  procure  the  opposite 
result,  and  keep  back  Pilate  from  the 
commission  of  an  aggravated  sin.  You 
may  find  it  difficult  to  understand  how 
the  foreknowledge  could  consist  with 
the  endeavor  to  prevent ;  but  both  are 
definitely  stated  ;  and  neither  is  affected 
by  an  apparent  opposition  to  the  other. 

And  the  great  practical  truth  which 
ought  to  be  derived  from  such  an  in- 
stance is,  that,  however  our  actions  have 
been  foreknown  and  overruled  by  God, 
we  shall  be  answerable  for  them,  as  re- 
sulting from  our  own  will,  and  wrought 
in  opposition  to  sufficient  warning  and 
instruction.  God  foreknows  which  of 
you  will  perish  ;  and  He  may  reckon 
on  the  final  impenitence  of  any  one  in 
this  assembly  as  a  fixed,  inevitable  thing, 
and  employ  it  in  some  way  as  an  instru- 
ment for  the  effecting  his  purposes. 
But  nevertheless  that  individual  is  under 
no  invincible  constraint :  he  is  free  to 
choose  :  and  his  final  impenitence  will 


result  only  from  his  own  refusal  to  be 
saved.  And  to  make  this  clear,  dear 
hereafter  before  angels  and  men,  God, 
you  may  be  sure,  will  act  on  that  indi- 
vidual through  the  agencies  of  his  Gos- 
pel, not  letting  him  alone  because  bent 
on  destruction,  but  plying  him  with 
warnings  that  he  may  be  left  without 
excuse.  The  mere  foreknowledge  can 
have  no  effect  on  the  man's  actions  :  if 
it  operated  at  all,  it  could  only  be  as 
withholding  God  from  imparting  as- 
sistances which  He  foresaw  would  be 
of  no  avail.  But  it  does  not  thus  ope 
rate  :  God  evidently  acts  towards  you  as 
if  He  foreknew  nothing  of  your  peni 
tence  or  impenitence,  but  had  only  the 
part  of  a  moral  governor  to  perform, 
who  would  furnish  his  subjects  with 
every  inducement  to  do  right,  and  cut  oft'' 
from  them  every  excuse  fordoing  wrong. 
You  may  wonder  how  God  can  thus,  as 
it  were,  in  one  sense  make  no  use  of 
his  foreknowledge,  whilst  in  another  He 
is  ordering  all  his  purposes  by  its 
showings  ;  and  you  may  feel,  and  per- 
haps with  great  justice,  that  no  created 
being  could  persevere  in  using  the 
same  means,  where  sure  to  fail,  and 
where  sure  to  succeed.  But  God  is  not 
a  created  being  :  his  ways  are  not  our 
ways,  neither  are  his  thoughts  our 
thoughts.  And  you  are  to  believe,  how- 
ever unable  you  may  be  to  solve  the 
questions  which  the  fact  will  suggest, 
that  God  takes  means  to  provide  for  its 
being  proved  at  the  judgment,  that  those 
very  actions,  which  He  had  all  along 
foreseen  and  ordained  to  overrule,  were 
wrought  in  despite  of  the  remonstrance 
of  his  Spirit,  and  in  opposition  to  as 
much  of  restraining  agency  as  could 
possibly  consist  with  human  accounta- 
bleness. 

It  will  be  impossible  then,  for  any 
one  to  take  refuge  in  God's  foreknowl- 
edge of  his  sins,  as  having  made  them 
unavoidable.  The  case  of  Pilate  is  a 
witness ;  and  we  may  regard  it  as  writ- 
ten to  prevent  our  entertaining  the  false 
hope.  You  can'  imagine  no  instance  in 
which  a  man  might  more  speciously 
plead,  that  there  lay  a  constraint  upon 
him,  or  that  he  was  under  a  kind  of  ne- 
cessity to  commit  a  great  sin.  What, 
when  the  sin  was  to  be  instrumental  to 
the  redemption  of  humankind,  when  it 
had  entered  from  all  eternity  into  the 
calculations  of  God,  so  that  its  prevett- 


!46 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


tion  would  have  deranged  the  whole 
scheme  of  deliverance,  is  the  perpe- 
trator to  be  visited  with  vengeance,  as 
though  there  were  nothing  to  excuse 
him  in  the  predeterminations  of  which 
the  sin  was  the  subject  1  Nay,  there 
was  nothing  to  excuse  him.  He  was 
not  forced  to  commit  the  sin  through  its 
being  foreknown  that  he  would  commit 
it.  The  foreknowledge  left  him  as  free 
as  though  there  had  been  no  foreknowl- 
edge. It  laid  no  weight  upon  con- 
science ;  for  conscience  was  in  full  vi- 
gor, and  remonstrated  with  all  the 
energy  of  the  vicegerent  of  God — ay, 
and  as  though  this  had  not  been  enough, 
but  the  guilty  Roman  might  have  still 
pleaded  that  there  was  not  sufficient 
motive  to  withhold  him  from  the  fore- 
known commission,  God  departed  from 
every  ordinary  rule,  interfered  in  a  su- 
pernatural manner,  and  caused  that,  so 
soon  as  Pilate  took  his  place  on  the  judg- 
ment seat,  his  wife  sent  to  him  to  tell  him 
of  a  vision  respecting  Christ,  and  to 
beseech  him  that  he  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  that  just  or  righteous  man. 

But  we  will  now  pass  from  the  more 
intricate  to  the  simpler  parts  of  our 
subject,  exhorting  you,  however,  to  pon- 
der at  your  leisure  the  very  remarkable 
evidence  which  is  furnished  to  your  be- 
ing accountable  for  actions  which  God 
foresees  and  overrules,  by  there  having 
been  a  Divine  interposition  to  withhold 
Pilate,  if  possible,  from  crucifying 
Christ.  We  wish  now  to  bring  you  to 
observe  how  the  method  used  by  God 
was  eminently  fitted  to  prevail  with  the 
Roman  governor,  and  how,  therefore,  it 
cut  off  all  excuse  when  he  gave  up  Je- 
sus to  the  multitude. 

It  may  at  once  occur  to  you  as  in  some 
respects  singular,  that  the  vision  was  to 
Pilate's  wife,  and  not  to  Pilate  himself. 
Why  was  there  this  indirect  communi- 
cation 1  Why,  when  the  object  was  to 
influence  the  mind  of  the  governor,  was 
he  not  himself  startled  by  portentous 
dreams,  and  scared  by  terrible  imagery, 
flitting  to  and  fro  in  the  silence  of  the 
night?  Would  not  the  admonitions  have 
been  more  likely  to  prevail,  if  thus  direct- 
ly conveyed  with  every  fearful  accompa- 
niment, than  when  received  second-hand, 
and  therefore  necessarily  divested  of 
what  gave  them  their  impressiveness  1 
We  can  only  say,  that  this  would  greatly 
depend  on  points  in  Pilate's  character 


with  which  we  have  not  full  acquaintance, 
and  that  we  are  bound  to  conclude  that 
God  took  the  course  which  was  best 
adapted,  on  the  whole,  to  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  case.  You  are  to  observe 
that,  as  the  supernatural  message  came 
through  Pilate's  wife,  there  may  have 
been  furnished  a  double  motive  to  the 
governor  :  in  addition  to  obedience 
to  the  vision,  there  may  have  been 
the  desire  of  pleasing  the  party  to  . 
whom  it  had  been  granted:  and  thus 
the  inducement,  when  you  take  the 
two  things  together,  may  have  been 
stronger  than  had  the  dream  been  that  of 
Pilate  himself.  The  attachment  of  Pilate 
to  his  wife  may  have  been  great  :  they 
may  have  been  knit  together  by  the 
bonds  of  a  very  close  affection  :  and  on 
such  a  supposition,  it  is  possible,  and 
even  probable,  that  the  terrors  of  the 
vision  would  have  been  more  effective 
upon  Pilate,  as  conveyed  to  him  through 
the  tears  and  entreaties  of  her  whom  he 
loved,  than  had  they  burst  upon  him  in 
their  unearthliness,  with  all  the  demon- 
strations of  superhuman  agency.  It 
would  not  necessarily  be  so  in  every 
case  :  but  it  is  altogether  supposable 
that  it  might  be  so  in  a  case  of  strong 
personal  attachment :  and  since  we  have 
nothing  from  which  to  conclude  that  this 
does  not  define  the  case  of  Pilate  and 
his  wife,  we  must  be  warranted  in 
thinking  that  God  took  the  course  which 
He  adopted,  because  the  Roman  govern- 
or was  most  accessible  through  the  chan- 
nel of  his  affections. 

And  it  is  on  such  a  supposition,  and 
under  such  a  point  of  view,  that  the  in- 
cident in  question  is  most  replete  with 
what  is  striking  and  instructive.  We 
have  already  said  enough  to  prove  to 
you  that  God,  in  his  dealings  with  Pilate, 
was  providing  for  his  own  vindication, 
storing  up  the  material  of  evidence  that 
this  Roman  sinned  against  light  and  con- 
viction, and  therefore  brought  upon  him- 
self all  the  guiltiness  of  actions  which 
were  to  subserve  the  most  glorious  of 
purposes.  Since  the  foreknown  wicked- 
ness of  Pilate  was  to  be  instrumental  to 
the  greatest  end  which  even  (rod  Him- 
self had  ever  proposed — the  rescue  of 
this  fallen  creation — it  would  seem  to 
have  been  important  that  this  wicked- 
ness should  be  clearly  shown  to  have 
been  altogether  wilful,  resulting  entirely 
from  the  depravity  of  the  creature,  and 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


247 


licit  at  all  from  the  determination  of  the 
Cieator.  It  was  not  therefore  thought 
sufficient,  that  conscience  should  give 
forth  its  utterances  with  more  than  com- 
mon distinctness  :  God  would  do  some- 
thing which  should  leave  no  place  for 
cavil,  and  which,  if  Pilate  could  with- 
stand it,  would  hut  prove  that  nothing 
consistent  with  human  accountableness 
would  have  withheld  him  from  crucify- 
ing Christ.  And  what  shall  this  he  1 
Something  supernatural  undoubtedly  : 
for  God  had  before  acted  upon  men 
through  visions  and  apparitions ;  and, 
therefore,  whilst  these  were  untried,  it 
could  hardly  be  affirmed  that  the  utmost 
had  been  done  in  the  instance  of  Pilate. 
Shall  then  a  spirit  pass  before  Pilate,  as 
one  had  passed  before  Eliphaz,  causing 
his  knees  to  tremble,  and  the  hair  of  his 
flesh  to  stand  up  ?  or  shall  one  of  the 
dead  be  disquieted,  and  rise  as  rose 
Samuel  in  the  cave  of  the  sorceress  ] 
Indeed,  there  shall  be  the  employment 
of  vision,  and  imagery  of  terror  shall  be 
used  to  impress  the  fearfuhiess  of  taking 
part  against  Christ.  But  nevertheless, 
the  spirit  shall  not  pass  before  Pilate 
himself,  and  the  forms  of  terror  shall  not 
meet  his  own  troubled  gaze.  God  seeks 
to  make  the  communication  yet  more 
effective  than  it  could  be  made  by  the 
wild  phantom  and  the  mysterious  voice; 
and  therefore  He  makes  it  not  to  Pilate, 
but  to  Pilate's  wife,  to  whom  he  was 
linked  by  very  strong  attachment.  He 
made  his  final  effort  on  this  Roman — the 
effort  which  was  to  give  convincing  de- 
monstration at  the  judgment  of  Pilate's 
inexcusableness — through  the  medium 
of  his  affections,  calculating  that  there 
would  be  less  power  in  the  apparition 
itself,  than  in  the  effect  of  that  apparition 
on  one  tenderly  beloved  ;  and  that  even 
if  Pilate  might  throw  off  the  influence  of 
a  vision  as  sent  in  awfulness  to  himself, 
he  would  yield  to  it  when  presented  in 
the  fears  and  beseechings  of  her  who  had 
his  heart.  And  if  this  be  a  true  account 
of  the  proceeding  in  question  ;  if  it  were 
to  Pilate's  wife,  rather  than  to  Pilate 
himself,  that  the  vision  was  sent,  because 
the  assault  was  thus  through  his  affec- 
tions, and  the  man,  not  accessible  through 
his  affections,  may  be  given  up  as  lost ; 
indeed  we  shall  have  no  difficulty  in 
showing  the  repetition  of  the  case,  and 
drawing  inferences  which  should  go 
home  to  many  in  this  assembly. 


It  is  far,  very  far  from  an  unfrequent 
thing,  that  God  causes  his  warnings  and 
reproofs  to  be  conveyed,  so  to  speak, 
through  the  channel  of  the  affections. 
It  is  the  case,  in  a  measure,  whensoever 
one  member  of  a  family  is  religiously 
impressed,  and  studies  to  convey  the 
impression  to  the  rest.  It  is  the  case 
when  parents  strive  to  train  their  chil- 
dren in  the  fear  of  God  ;  for  all  the  filial 
feelings  may  then  be  said  to  be  enlisted 
on  the  side  of  piety.  It  is  the  case 
when  children  are  beyond  their  parents 
in  godliness,  so  that  Christianity  is  car- 
ried to  the  father  and  the  mother  through 
the  beautiful  examples,  and  the  modest 
statements,  of  the  son  or  the  daughter. 
It  is  yet  more  emphatically  the  case, 
when  either  the  husband  or  the  wife  is 
stirred  with  anxiety  for  the  soul,  and 
beseeches  the  other  to  take  heed  of  cru- 
cifying the  Son  of  God  afresh.  There 
is  no  denying  the  commonness  of  these 
cases  :  they  are  continually  occurring  in 
every  neighborhood,  and  we  are  quite 
sure  that  examples  of  each  kind  might 
be  found  amongst  yourselves.  And  we 
wish  you  to  understand,  that,  whenso- 
ever they  occur,  God  may  be  regarded 
as  making  a  special  effort  to  overcome 
impenitence  and  unbelief,  and  as  em- 
ploying an  engine  which  is  among  the 
last  and  most  powerful  that  He  ever 
brings  to  bear  upon  men.  If  He  make 
no  way  when  He  attacks  through  the 
affections,  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected 
that  He  will  ever  prevail :  there  remains 
no  more  likely  method  :  and  the  proba- 
bility is,  that  the  great  moral  change 
will  never  be  wrought. 

We  would  press  this  on  the  attention 
of  those  of  you  whose  circumstances 
may  at  all  bring  them  under  our  fore- 
going descriptions.  Children  who  have 
religious  parents — God  has  sent  the  vi- 
sion of  immortality  to  those  who  gave 
you  life,  and  not,  in  the  first  instance,  to 
yourselves :  but  this  is  because  there  is 
no  channel  through  which  Christian 
truths  can  reach  you  so  advantageously 
as  through  that  of  parental  instruction, 
through  the  warm  words  of  a  father,  or 
the  warmer  tears  of  a  mother  :  and  you 
are  to  bethink  yourselves,  that,  if  the 
truths,  thus  communicated,  fail  to  make 
impression,  you  are  not  to  reckon  on 
any  mightier  instrumentality.  Parents, 
again,  who  have  religious  children,  into 
whose  households  piety  has  gained  en- 


248 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


trance,  but  not  through  yourselves — 
the  dream,  which  has  given  warning 
of  the  peril  of  neglecting  the  soul,  has 
not  invaded  your  own  slumber,  but  that 
of  those  in  whom  you  have  garnered  up 
the  heart :  and  you  are  to  consider  that 
this  course  has  been  followed,  because 
there  was  less  probability  of  your  re- 
sisting the  claims  of  the  Gospel,  as  pre- 
sented to  you  by  the  objects  of  deep 
love.  If,  then,  you  can  be  irreligious 
with  religion  personified  in  a  son  or  a 
daughter,  ala»!  we  can  scarcely  dare 
hope  that  you  will  ever  be  won  over  to 
God.  And  the  husband,  who  is  yet  de- 
voted to  the  present  perishable  world, 
but  whose  wife  has  been  roused  to 
provide  for  eternity,  and  who  tells  him 
of  those  visions  of  the  future  which 
startled  her  from  her  lethargy,  and  en- 
treats him  to  join  with  her  in  fleeing 
wrath  to  come — we  see  in  this  man  not 
one  from  whom  God  withholds  the  vi- 
sion, but  rather  one  to  whom  He  sends 
it  in  the  mode  best  adapted  to  convince  : 
and  if  it  be  to  no  purpose  that  she,  to 
whom  he  is  bound  by  the  closest  of  hu- 
man ties,  becomes  to  him,  as  it  were,  the 
medium  of  communication  from  the  in- 
visible world,  the  minister  may  well  fear 
that  his  preaching  will  be  vain,  and 
that  he  shall  never  be  gladdened  by  that 
husband's  conversion. 

We  are  advancing  nothing  at  vari- 
ance with  the  important  truth  which  we 
often  feel  it  necessary  to  press  on  your 
attention,  namely,  that  it  is  through  the 
public  ministrations  of  the  Gospel  that 
God  ordinarily  turns  men  from  darkness 
to  light.  We  are  only  sketching  to  you 
a  result  of  chose  public  ministrations,  and 
considering  its  effects  on  others  beside 
its  more  immediate  subjects.  And  we 
are  bound  to  tell  you,  that  we  look  with 
the  most  melancholy  apprehension  on 
that  family  or  household,  one  of  whose 
members  has  been  converted  through 
the  preaching  of  the  word,  whilst  the 
others  continue  careless  and  worldly- 
minded.  At  the  first  moment,  we  hail 
with  delight  the  convei'sion  of  one,  and 
eagerly  anticipate  that  the  little  leaven 
will  leaven  the  whole  lump.  But 
when  we  observe  that  no  salutary  ef- 
fect is  wrought  upon  the  mass,  we 
have  less  hope  than  ever  that  good  will 
be  accomplished  through  future  preach- 
ings of  the  Gospel,  and  almost  regard 
the  unconverted  members  as  shut  up  to 


final  impenitence.  It  has  to  us  all  the  afr 
of  a  last  attempt,  when  the  preacher  has 
been  enabled  to  overcome  the  unbelief 
of  some  one  in  the  household,  and  so 
may  be  said  to  have  sent  that  one  as  his 
messenger  to  the  rest,  to  warn  and  to 
beseech  them  not  to  fight  against  God. 
It  is  the  attempt  through  the  affections 
— the  attempt  upon  Pilate  through  the 
entreaties  and  forebodings  of  his  wife. 
There  may  be  other  attempts,  and — for 
there  is  nothing  too  hard  for  the  Lord — 
the  strongholds  of  unbelief  may  yet  be 
cast  down.  But  as  a  general  rule,  we 
believe,  that,  where  vital  religion  has 
made  way  into  a  household,  and  does 
not  spread,  there  is  cause  for  a  more 
than  common  fear  that  it  has  won  its 
only  victory.  When  the  parent  is  con- 
verted, but  can  effect  nothing  against 
the  ungodliness  of  the  child ;  when  the 
child  is  converted,  but  sets  in  vain  be- 
fore the  parent  the  truths  of  Christiani- 
ty ;  when  the  wife  hearkens  to  the  sum- 
mons of  the  Gospel,  but  cannot  persuade 
the  husband  to  be  one  with  her  in  seek- 
ing rest  beyond  the  grave  ;  or  the  hus- 
band renounces  the  world,  but  cannot 
induce  the  wife  to  join  him  in  breaking 
away  from  its  fascinations — oh,  it  may 
seem  a  harsh  thing  to  say,  but  the  child, 
or  the  parent,  or  the  husband,  or  the 
wife,  who  can  thus  resist  the  claims  of 
religion,  when  urged  through  the  chan- 
nel which  goes  directly  to  the  heart,  ap- 
pears to  us  to  be  closing  up  the  last 
path  of  escape,  and  almost  insuring  the 
dying  unconverted.  Depend  upon  it,  it 
is  a  fearful  thing  to  have  your  affections 
engaged,  so  to  speak,  on  the  side  of  re- 
ligion, and  yet  religion  to  gain  no  hold 
on  your  affections. 

Let  this  be  pondered,  we  entreat,  by 
those  of  you  who  may  be  conscious  to 
themselves  that  they  are  being  attacked 
through  what  we  define  as  the  avenue 
of  the  affections.  Let  them  not  think 
that  it  might  be  belter  for  them  if  they 
were  acted  on  more  immediately  through 
the  ministrations  of  the  Gospel ;  so  that, 
as  the  preacher  launched  forth  his  ora- 
tory, the  terrors  of  the  future  world 
might  crowd  their  imaginations,  and  the 
Judge  of  humankind  rise  before  their 
vision,  seated  awfully  on  his  throne  of 
fire  and  of  cloud.  Let  them  rather  think, 
that  it  may  be  on  account  of  its  greater 
probable  efficiency,  that  God  tries  the 
method  of  rousing  a  near  kinsman,  and 


PILATE  S   WIFE. 


249 


then  employing  that  kinsman  to  operate 
upon  them,  so  that,  in  withstanding  this 
process  of  attack,  they  only  show  that 
no  other  would  prevail.  And  let  them 
consider  whether  this  may  not  be  illus- 
trated by  the  instance  of  Pilate,  Pilate 
of  whom  we  may  say  that  God  designed 
to  use  the  strongest  possible  means  of 
withholding  him  from  the  guilt  of  cru- 
cifying Christ,  and  yet  of  whom  we 
read,  not  that  his  own  slumber  was 
broken  by  a  supernatural  visitation,  but 
only  that,  when  he  was  set  down  on  the 
judgment  seat,  his  wife  sent  unto  him 
to  tell  him  of  an  agonizing  dream,  and 
to  beseech  him  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  that  righteous  man  Christ. 

But  now  we  would  wish  you  to  ob- 
serve how  greatly  it  increased  the  cri- 
minality of  Pilate,  that  the  message  of 
his  wife  reached  him  at  the  very  mo- 
ment of  his  taking  his  place  on  the 
judgment  seat.  It  would  seem  that  he 
had  left  his  palace  without  hearing  any 
thing  of  the  dream — nay,  that  the  dream 
had  not  then  been  vouchsafed — for  you 
will  observe  how  the  communication 
runs,  "  I  have  suffered  many  things  this 
day  in  a  dream  because  of  him."  The 
dream  had  not  come  in  the  night,  the 
ordinary  season  for  such  modes  of  reve- 
lation, but  in  the  day — so  that  there  was 
probably  something  altogether  superna- 
tural about  the  vision,  leaving  no  room 
for  doubt  in  Pilate's  wife  that  God  had 
indeed  interfered  to  attest  Christ's  inno- 
cence, and  to  give  warning  as  to  the 
danger  of  using  Him  injuriously.  And 
Pilate,  receiving  so  sudden  and  unex- 
pected a  message,  must  have  more 
strongly  felt  a  Divine  interposition,  than 
had  he  heard  in  the  morning  some  mar- 
vellous story  of  a  strange  impression  on 
the  mind  duringthe  usual  hours  of  sleep. 
He  must  have  perceived  that  something 
extraordinary  had  happened  :  the  vision 
had  evidently  been  so  timed,  that  the  ti- 
dings might  reach  him  when  he  could 
least  question  their  authority,  and  stood 
most  in  need  of  their  import.  And  this, 
as  we  have  said,  greatly  heightens  Pi- 
late's guilt :  whatever  power  the  vision 
could  have,  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  at  the  precise  moment  when  he 
most  required  aid :  and  you  may  see 
that  the  whole  thing  was  ordered,  so 
as  to  afford  him  the  strongest  possible 
assurance  that  there  had  come  a  warn- 
ing from  God,  and  to  afford  it  him  when 


it  was  most  likely  to  strengthen  him  to 
do  right. 

Of  course,  it  would  in  a  measure  pal- 
liate his  conduct,  if  you  could  show  that 
he  had  reason  to  doubt  the  fact  of  a  su- 
pernatural communication,  or  if  there 
had  been  nothing  to  force  the  fact  on  his 
attention  at  the  exact  moment  when 
conscience  required  an  auxiliary.  But 
though  he  had  no  power  of  examining 
the  alleged  communication,  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  not  to  feel  that  some- 
thing very  singular  had  occurred.  His 
wife,  whom  he  had  left  but  a  short  time 
before,  undisturbed  by  any  thoughts  as 
to  Christ,  would  never  have  sent  him  so 
strange  a  message  and  entreaty,  had 
there  not  been  actually  what  looked  like 
the  interference  of  God  :  and  it  was 
precisely  when  his  own  convictions  were 
urging  him  to  release  Christ,  that  there 
came  to  him  a  testimony  to  his  inno- 
cence, which  ought  itself  to  have  nerved 
him  to  the  resisting  the  popular  will. 

We  quite  believe  that  the  same  accu- 
rate timing  of  warning  and  admonition 
is  to  be  traced  in  the  experience  of  all, 
so  that,  if  any  one  of  you  would  care- 
fully observe  how  things  fall  out  when 
he  is  exposed  to  temptation,  he  would 
find  proof  that  God  sends  him  seasona- 
ble aids,  and  disposes  events  to  the 
strengthening  him  to  resist  and  over- 
come. Certainly,  if  He  took  care  that 
Pilate  should  receive  a  message,  just  as 
he  ascended  the  tribunal  whence  he 
would  be  tempted  to  deliver  a  wrong 
verdict,  He  will  not  leave  without  the 
appropriate  assistance  any  of  those,  who, 
being  brought  into  perilous  circumstan- 
ces, are  sincerely  desirous  to  keep  un- 
sullied their  Christian  profession.  And 
in  regard  of  others,  who  are  "  led  cap- 
tive by  Satan  at  his  will,"  they  have 
often  to  overcome  obstacles  which  seem 
thrown  suddenly,  and  as  of  set  purpose, 
in  the  way  of  their  attaining  the  grati- 
fication of  their  passions.  They  have 
only  to  note  the  difficulties  which  unex- 
pectedly arise,  and  warn  them  back 
from  some  object  on  which  they  are 
bent,  to  confess  that  it  is  as  though  an 
invisible  Being  watched  the  opportunity, 
and  pressed  upon  them  with  a  motive 
to  do  right,  exactly  at  the  turning-point 
where  the  risk  became  greatest  of  their 
determining  to  do  wrong. 

But  even  if  these  special  interposi- 
tions cannot  be  traced,  you  are  to  re- 


250 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


member  that  the  whole  judicature  of 
conscience  is  constructed  on  the  princi- 
ple of*  counsel  being  administered  at  the 
precise  moment  when  temptation  is  ur- 
gent. This  is  one  of  those  peculiarities 
in  conscience  which  will  make  it  so  stern 
a  witness  against  every  man  who  dies  in 
his  sins.  It  is  not  in  moments  of  calm 
reflection  alone  that  conscience  delivers 
a  verdict  on  this  or  that  action  ;  just  as 
a  friend,  with  whom  we  hold  serious 
discourse,  may  offer  opinions  and  ten- 
der advice.  If  this  were  the  whole 
course  of  conscience,  we  should  have 
nothing  to  appeal  to  in  any  sudden 
emergence  but  certain  registered  de- 
cisions, which  it  might  be  hard  to  recall, 
or  at  least,  to  invest  with  any  influence, 
amid  the  urgent  pleadings  of  pas- 
sion or  interest.  But  conscience  ten- 
ders its  remonstrance  precisely  at  the 
moment  when  temptation  plies  us  with 
its  bait  :  the  two  things  occur  together 
as  though  the  one  produced  the  other — 
the  message,  which  ought  to  influence 
the  verdict,  is  delivered  at  the  instant  of 
ascending  the  judgment  seat.  It  is  not 
the  result  of  any  process  of  argument 
which  is  announced  to  you  through  the 
pleadings  of  conscience  :  you  cannot 
tell  whence  the  unseen  monitor  has 
sprung  ;  but  there  is  no  debate  as  to  his 

Sresence  ;  and  the  voice  compels  an  au- 
ience,  even  where  there  is  the  most 
set  determination  of  acting  counter  to 
its  suggestions.  And  this,  as  we  have 
said,  will  make  conscience  the  most  fear- 
ful of  witnesses  against  every  man  who 
persists  in  his  wickedness.  He  must 
have  carried  with  him  into  every  scene 
of  iniquity  the  remonstrating  principle  ; 
and  as  he  went  after  his  unrighteous- 
ness, he  left  not  behind  his  counsellor 
and  reprover;  but  that  counsellor  .and 
reprover  was  continually  at  his  side,  re- 
fusing to  part  company,  urging  advice 
in  the  precise  instant  of  danger,  only  to 
be  silenced  as  a  monitor  by  the  commis- 
sion of  the  sin,  and  then  to  wake  up 
immediately  as  an  avenger. 

We  are  willing  therefore  to  put  out  of 
sight  those  strange  interferences  which 
may  be  traced,  we  believe,,  in  every  man's 
history,  and  which  give  evidence  of  a 
watchful  Providence,  ever  anxious  to  cast 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  sinner,  and  to 
furnish  him  with  fresh  motives  to  do  right 
at  the  moment  when  most  tempted  to  do 
wrong.      We    feel  confident  that  such 


interferences  are  frequently  made,  so  that 
there  is  much  in  the  experience  of  every 
one  of  us  which  is  accurately  parallel  to 
the  incident  under  review,  to  the  coming 
of  the  message  from  Pilate's  wife  pre- 
cisely when  Pilate  took  his  place  on  l he 
judgment  seat.  But  we  will  not  insist 
on  this  fact ;  for  it  is  a  fact  which  is  only 
to  be  established  in  individual  cases  by 
close  observation,  and  therefore  may  be 
easily  either  questioned  or  denied.  We 
confine  ourselves  altogether  to  the  juris- 
diction of  conscience,  conscience  which 
every  man  bears  about  in  his  own  breast, 
so  that  no  one  may  plead  that  he  knows 
nothing  of  its  existence.  We  declare  of 
this  principle,  that  it  is  its  very  nature 
to  be  most  energetic  when  there  is  most 
need  for  remonstrance,  and  to  deliver  its 
counsel  at  the  exact  moment  when  the 
individual  is  urged  by  temptation.  We 
know  not  how  this  comes  to  pass  :  it  is  as 
though  at  the  presence  of  danger  there 
started  forth  a  guardian  angel :  through 
some  most  beneficent  but  inexplicable 
arrangment,  you  have  only  to  set  the  foot 
in  a  perilous  place,  and  you  thereby  call 
up  an  adviser,  whose  counsel  is  certain  to 
be  for  your  safety.  But,  mysterious  as 
it  may  be,  such  is  actually  the  case  : 
through  no  tedious  process  of  ratiocina- 
tion or  deduction,  but  instantaneously, 
with  all  the  freshness  and  all  the  vehe- 
mence of  a  living  thing  which  had  been 
watching  an  opportunity  that  it  might 
pour  in  its  counsel,  does  consience  rise 
up  in  the  moment  of  temptation,  and,  by 
exhortation  and  threatening,  seek  to  with- 
hold you  from  what  it  denounces  as 
wrong. 

And  therefore  will  there  be  something 
of  the  like  testimony  against  every  evil- 
doer, when  God  shall  sit  in  judgment 
upon  men,  as  against  Pilate  who  was  met 
by  the  message  fiom  his  wile  when  the 
Jews  were  urging  him  to  crucify  the 
Christ.  The  like  testimony — because 
that  evil-doer  had  equally  to  go  forward 
in  the  face  of  a  remonstrance,  and  to  per- 
petrate the  wrong  against  the  warning 
and  entreaty  of  the  most  intimate  asso- 
ciate. The  condemning  thing  with  Pilate 
was,  that  the  message  came  upon  him  in 
the  moment  of  emergence  :  had  it  come 
sooner,  the  effect  might  have  worn  off, 
and  it  must  have  been  unavailing  if  later. 
And  the  condemning  thing  with  any  one 
of  us — so  far  as  conscience  has  to  do  with 
the  sentence — will  be,  that  we  were  warn- 


PILATE  S  WIFE. 


251 


ed  and  tempted  at  the  same  instant :  had 
the  warning  preceded  the  temptation,  we 
might  have  pleaded  that  it  was  weakened 
by  distance  ;  and  of  course,  had  it  follow- 
ed, it  could  not  have  aided  us  in  resist- 
ance. But  forasmuch  as  the  two  were 
contemporaneous,  the  temptation  seem- 
ing always  to  call  forth  the  warning, 
there  will  be  nothing  to  urge  in  our  own 
vindication  ;  no  more  than  with  Pilate, 
who,  on  taking  his  seat  as  a  judge,  re- 
ceived the  message  which  should  have 
bound  him  to  "judge  l-ighteous  judg- 
ment." 

What  a  scene  will  it  be  when  this 
Roman  stands  forth  to  answer  for  him- 
self at  the  tribunal  of  Christ !  The 
judge  will  be  the  prisoner,  the  prisoner 
the  Judge.  Christ  was  arraigned  be- 
fore Pilate,  and  now  Pilate  must  be  ar- 
raigned before  Christ.  How  changed 
the  condition  of  the  two  !  Who  can  re- 
cognize in  that  majestic  form,  from  whose 
face  the  earth  and  the  heavens  flee  away, 
the  defenceless  Being,  who,  pursued  by 
the  imprecations  and  blasphemies  of  a 
desperate  multitude,  stood  meekly  before 
the  Roman  governor,  waiting  his  award 
of  life  or  of  death  1  Around  the  Roman 
were  then  all  the  tokens  of  power :  he 
bore  the  commission  of  the  mistress  of 
the  world,  and  seemed  to  have  absolute- 
ly at  his  disposal  the  persecuted  man 
whom  his  disciples  and  friends  had  for- 
saken in  the  hour  of  peril.  But  now 
that  persecuted  man  appears  as  "  King 
of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords  : "  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  angels  wait 
to  do  his  will  :  and  the  myriads  of  hu- 
man kind,  summoned  by  his  voice  from 
the  grave,  are  to  receive  from  his  de- 
cision eternal  allotments,  whether  of 
happiness  beyond  thought,  or  of  wretch- 
edness without  limit.  And  the  Roman 
is  there,  the  scornful  man  who  would 
not  wait  an  answer  to  his  own  solemn 
question,  "  what  is  truth  ]  "  the  coward- 
ly man,  who  would  not  stand  to  his  own 
conviction  of  right ;  the  unjust  man,  who 
could  deliver  up  the  innocent  to  death  ; 
the  presumptuous,  self-deceiving  man, 
who  could  wash  his  hands  in  water,  and 
think  to  excuse  his  dipping  them  in 
blood.  He  will  know  that  awful  Being 
on  the  great  white  throne  :  he  will  re- 
peat to  himself  his  own  words  to  the 
Jews,  "  Behold  the  man  !  " — the  man 
on  whom  I  sat  as  judge,  the  man  whom 
I  surrendered  to  the  will  of  his  enemies, 


the  man  whom  I  knew  to  be  guiltless, 
but  whom  I  abandoned,  because  I  be- 
lieved Him  to  be  powerless,  unable  to 
avenge  an  insult,  or  punish  a  wrong. 
But  now,  in  place  of  a  crown  of  thorns, 
there  is  upon  his  head  the  diadem  of  the 
universe,  and,  instead  of  the  reed,  there 
is  the  rod  of  iron  in  his  hand,  with  which 
to  rule  the  nations,  so  that  "  as  the  ves- 
sels of  a  potter  shall  they  be  broken  to 
shivers." 

And  if  we  may  venture  to  go  yet  fur- 
ther in  anticipating  the  scenes  of  the 
judgment,  will  not  his  own  wife  be  a 
witness  against  Pilate  ]  will  she  not  be 
forced  to  declare  how  she  told  him  of  the 
terrors  which  had  been  wrought  into 
her  spirit,  through  some  mysterious  re- 
presentation, of  the  very  events  which 
are  then  coming  to  pass  1  and  will  not 
this  testimony,  even  if  corroborated  by 
no  other,  demand  and  justify  the  sen- 
tence of  condemnation,  and  drive  down 
the  criminal  to  the  lowest  depth  of  woe  ] 

It  is  among  the  most  affecting  of  the 
probabilities  which  belong  to  the  last 
judgment,  that  relations  and  friends  will 
have  part  in  giving  evidence  against  the 
impenitent  and  unbelieving.  It  must  be 
so,  where  the  assault  has  been  through 
the  channel  or  avenue  of  the  affections. 
We  do  not  know  how  you  can  avoid  the 
conclusion,  that  the  righteous  parent  will 
be  appealed  to  in  proof  of  the  inexcus- 
ableness  of  the  unrighteous  child  ;  and 
that  the  child  who  has  beautifully  ex- 
emplified the  truths  of  Christianity,  but 
gained  for  them  no  entrance  into  the 
breast  of  a  parent,  must  testify  against 
that  parent,  and  vindicate  his  condem- 
nation. And  it  will  not  be  the  wife  of 
Pilate  alone  that  shall  lift  her  voice 
against  her  husband.  Wheresover  hu- 
man affections  and  ties  have  been  enlist- 
ed, so  to  speak,  on  the  side  of  religion, 
it  must  come  to  pass  that  the  sentence 
on  irreligion  will  be  justified  from  the 
witness  of  one  who  loved  and  was  be- 
loved, who  would  perhaps  have  given 
life  to  insure  happiness  to  the  party  that 
would  not  be  persuaded,  but  must,  nev- 
ertheless, attest  the  equity  of  the  doom 
which  consigns  that  party  to  the  fire  and 
the  worm.  Let  any  one,  on  whom  the 
duties  of  religion  are  pressed  through 
the  voice  of  one  deservedly  dear — 
whether  the  voice  of  parent,  or  of  child, 
or  of  husband,  or  of  wife — but  think  of 
that  voice  as  calling  down  eternal  judg- 


252 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


ment  hereafter,  if  those  duties  remain 
neglected  ;  and  possibly  there  will  be  a 
shrinking  from  what  it  is  so  fearful  to 
contemplate,  and  a  determination,  in  the 
strength  of  the  Lord,  to  seek  forthwith 
the  things  which  belong  unto  peace. 

Our  wish  for  the  yet  unconverted 
amongst  you  is,  that,  with  Pilate's  wife, 
you  might  be  made  to  suffer  many  things 
because  of  Christ.  O  for  the  vision  !  O 
for  the  dream  ! — the  vision  which  should 
scatter  every  other,  the  dream  which 
might  break  your  fatal  slumbers.  I 
know  not  what  the  dream  was  which 
roused  the  wife  of  Pilate.  But.it  was  a 
dream  of  terror — it  would  seem  of  un- 
mingled  terror  :  she  had  "  suffered  many 
things ;"  and  probably  the  Redeemer 
passed  before  her,  trampling  down  his 
enemies,  and  having  all  his  garments  red 
with  their  blood.  O  for  such  a  dream 
again  !  but  not  alone  :  we  would  have  it 
followed  by  a  different  vision,  a  vision 
of  this  terrible  Being  as  ready  to  save 
to  the  uttermost  all  who  come  unto  God 
through  Him.  And  it  will  be  thus  fol- 
lowed :  the  dread  of  the   wrath  of  the 


Lamb  mustproduce  desire  for  his  favor; 
and  where  this  desire  exists,  it  will  urge 
to  those  endeavors  which  are  never  made 
in  sincerity,  but  they  are  made  with  suc- 
cess. We  want  you,  then,  to  be  visited 
with  a  vision  of  Judgment  to  come  :  and 
if  you  would  only  sit  down  to  a  calm  in- 
vestigation of  the  relation  in  which  vou 
stand  to  the  moral  Governor  of  the  uni- 
verse, it  could  hardly  fail  but  that  the  vi- 
sion would  be  upon  you,  and  dread  and 
dark  things  come  crowding  from  the  fu- 
ture. And  if  in  every  case — and  the  cases 
are  of  daily  occurrence — in  which  it  is 
virtually  put  to  your  decision,  whether 
you  will  crucify  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  or 
acknowledge  Him  as  your  Savior,  you 
would  then  go  up,  as  it  were,  to  the 
Judgment  seat  under  the  impression  of 
this  vision,  with  the  message  which  it 
conveyed  ringing  in  your  ears,  indeed  we 
can  be  sure,  that,  when  the  last  trumpet 
sounds,  and  the  last  assize  is  held,  you 
will  look  with  confidence  on  the  descend- 
ing Judge,  and  know  in  Him  a  brother 
and  Redeemer. 


SERMON    XIV. 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


And  the  Lord  said  unto  Cain,  Where  is  Abel  thy  brother  ?  And  he  said,  I  know  not :  am  I  my  brother's  keeper? 
And  he  said,  What  hast  thou  done  ?  the  voice  of  thy  brother's  blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the  ground." — Genesi* 
iv.  9,  10. 


The  brief  notices  which  the  inspired 
historian  has  given  of  the  condition  of 
our  first  parents  immediately  after  the 
fall,  do  not  suffice  to  answer  the  ques- 
tions which  naturally  suggest  themselves 
to  the  mind.  We  have  no  power  of 
knowing  what  alteration  they  felt  in 
themselves  as  consequent  on  the  trans- 


gression of  which  they  had  been  guilty. 
We  read,  indeed,  that,  before  the  fall, 
they  had  no  feeling  of  shame  at  the  not 
being  clothed ;  but  that  no  sooner  had 
they  eaten  of  the  forbidden  fruit  than 
their  eyes  were  opened,  and  they  knew 
themselves  naked.  But  this  is  our  only 
information  as  to  any  consciousness  of 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


253 


the  change  which  they  had  undergone. 

Whether  they  felt  the  sentence  of  death 
in  their  members,  whether  they  could 
judge,  from  some  difference  in  the  thrdb- 
biugs  of  life,  that  they  were  no  longer 
what  they  had  been,  children  of  immor- 
tality— on  this  it  were  idle  to  advance 
even  conjecture  ;  they  knew  that  they 
must  die  ;  they  knew  in  a  measure  what 
death  was,  for  they  saw  the  strugglings 
of  animals  which  they  offered  in  sacri- 
fice :  but  it  is  a  strange,  inexplicable 
thing,  the  transition  from  incorruptible 
to  corruptible,  from  immortal  to  mortal  ; 
and  we  may  not  pretend  to  say  whether 
the  pulse  and  the  feeling  gave  any  notice 
of  the  change. 

But  at  least,  we  may  believe  that 
Adam  and  Eve  awaited  with  much  anx- 
iety the  first  instance  of  death.  It  was 
long  in  coming;  "year  rolled  away  after 
year,  and  still  they  saw  no  infliction  of 
the  curse,  except  on  the  beast  of  the  field 
and  the  fowl  of  the  air.  Perhaps  the 
delay  took  away  something  of  the  horror 
with  which  they  had  at  first  contemplat- 
ed the  threatened  visitation.  Their 
family  multiplied,  sons  and  daughters 
were  born  unto  them,  and  they  may  al- 
most have  forgotten,  as  healthfulness 
perhaps  beamed  from  every  face,  that  a 
day  must  come  when  the  ground,  which 
yielded  them  sustenance,  must  yield  them 
a  grave.  At  least,  our  first  parents  may 
have  said,  It  will  not  be  our  lot  to  mark 
the  irruption  of  the  destroyer.  We,  in 
all  probability,  shall  be  the  first  victims  : 
for  it  may  not  have  entered  into  their 
thoughts,  that  so  vast  was  the  disorgani- 
zation consequent  on  sin,  that  children 
might  die  before  their  parents,  and  the 
old  carry  the  young  out  to  burial. 

Alas  for  Adam  and  Eve  !  if  they  eith- 
er thought  less  of  the  evil  they  had 
wrought,  because  its  consequences  came 
not  visibly  for  year  after  year ;  or  if  they 
expected,  that,  being  themselves  the  first 
to  fall  before  the  storm,  they  should 
know  comparatively  but  little  of  its  fear- 
fulness.  Alas  for  them !  seeing  that 
they  were  to  live  to  behold  the  entrance 
of  death,  an  entrance  which  should  de- 
monstrate, in  a  manner  inconceivably 
terrible,  how  vast  was  the  corruption 
which  had  been  wrought  into  then- 
nature. 

There  is  nothing  more  memorable 
than  this — that  the  first  instance  of  death 
was  the  most  convincing  of  all  possible 


proofs,  that  human  nature  had  become 
radically  depraved,  that  it  was  capable 
of  any  wickedness,  in  consequence  of 
the  original  transgression.  It  might 
have  been  supposed,  that,  though  the 
seeds  of  evil  had  been  sown  in  out  na- 
ture through  the  disobedience  of  our 
first  parents,  time  would  have  been  re- 
quired for  their  development,  so  that  it 
would  not  be  until  the  human  family  had 
multiplied  and  spread,  that  any  thing  of 
enormous  wickedness  would  be  wrought 
upon  the  earth.  But  the  precise  reverse 
was  the  matter  of  fact.  The  very  first 
that  was  born  of  woman,  committed  the 
very  foulest  crime  that  can  be  perpetra- 
ted by  man.  There  was  no  time  needed 
for  the  growth  of  evil :  the  nature,  once 
corrupted,  was  capable  of  the  worst  that 
can  be  even  imagined.  You  might 
think,  when  you  look  on  the  savage, 
stained  with  some  deed  of  signal  atrocity, 
that  he  is  but  a  proof  of  the  gradual 
degeneracy  of  our  nature — supposing 
him  to  have  become  thus  frightfully  fe- 
rocious through  the  growth  of  barbarism 
in  successive  generations.  You  com- 
pare him  with  the  inhabitants  of  more 
civilized  countries,  and  you  conclude 
that  it  is  just  because  he  has  been  longer 
left  to  harden  and  deteriorate,  without 
coming  into  contact  with  any  counter  in- 
fluence, that  he  commits  without  re- 
morse the  most  desperate  crimes.  And 
we  do  not  of  course  deny,  that  civiliza- 
tion has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the 
form  and  measure  of  prevalent  iniquity : 
the  laws  of  a  well-regulated  society  will 
proscribe,  and  make  rare,  many  of  those 
manifestations  of  evil  which  stalk  unre- 
strained in  a  barbarous  state.  But  what 
we  wish  you  to  be  certified  of,  is,  that, 
though  with  different  degrees  of  civiliza- 
tion there  may  be  different  degrees  in 
the  exhibition  of  human  corruption, 
there  are  not  different  degrees  in  that 
corruption  itself.  Man  is  the  same,  radi- 
cally the  same,  in  one  state  and  in  an- 
other :  he  is  capable  of  the  same,  the 
very  same,  villanies,  though  he  may  not 
in  both  instances  be  actually  guilty  of 
them  :  the  polish  of  civilization  may  con- 
ceal, and  the  rudeness  of  barbarism  may 
bring  out,  evil  tendencies,  but  those  ten- 
dencies equally  exist,  however  unequally 
they  may  be  displayed. 

And  we  can  never  want  other  proof 
of  this  truth  than  that  which  was  forced 
on  our  first  parents,  when,  after  long  ex- 


254 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


peering  the  entrance  of  death,  and  per- 
haps, seeing  but  little  to  persuade  them, 
that,  in  eating  of  the  fruit,  they  had 
actually  poisoned  the  nature  which  they 
were  to  transmit,  they  beheld  Abel  ly- 
ing murdered,  and  knew  that  a  brother's 
hand  had  dealt  the  fatal  blow.  If  Abel 
had  sickened  and  died  in  what  we  now 
eall  a  natural  course,  it  would  have  been 
a  grievous  spectacle  for  Adam  and  Eve  : 
they  would  have  hung  over  their  wast- 
ing child  in  unutterable  anguish,  marking 
in  every  pang  the  effect  of  their  disobe- 
dience, and  reproaching  themselves  as 
the  cause  of  his  sufferings.  And  when 
at  last  death  had  made  good  his  conquest, 
and  seized  the  first-fruit  of  that  immea- 
surable harvest  which  he  is  yet  reaping 
from  the  earth,  they  would  have  thrown 
themselves  in  their  agony  on  the  corpse, 
and  then  have  recoiled  from  the  touch, 
shuddering  at  the  coldness  of  the  dead. 
Still  there  would  have  been  nothing  here 
but  what  they  had  looked  for,  nothing 
but  what  they  had  known  to  be  inevita- 
ble :  the  first  dead  body  would  have 
been  an  appalling,  strange,  mysterious 
thing  ;  but  nevertheless  as  they  gazed 
on  the  calm,  still,  features,  they  might 
have  felt  that  there  was  rest  in  that  aw- 
ful sleep.  They  would  not  necessarily 
have  risen  from  their  first  acquaintance 
with  death,  increasingly  convinced  of 
the  fearful  consequences  of  their  sin. 
Those  consequences  might  have  been 
presented  in  their  least  terrible  shape. 
The  dying  youth  might  have  blessed 
them  with  his  parting  breath  ;  he  might 
have  smiled  affectionately  upon  them, 
and  something  of  hope  might  have  beam- 
ed from  his  eye,  as  though  to  assure 
them,  that,  after  all,  death  was  not  so 
formidable  a  thing  :  and  they  might  have 
dug  his  grave,  and  laid  him  there  to  his 
long  repose,  half- comforted  with  '  the 
thought,  that,  although  they  had  brought 
a  curse  upon  their  nature,  that  curse 
was  less  tremendous  than  their  fears  had 
supposed. 

But  Abel  murdered — Abel  stretched 
upon  the  earth,  a  ghastly  mangled  thing 
— what  a  spectacle  was  this  !  Who  had 
done  it  1  had  he  been  his  own  execu- 
tioner] That  were  an  awful  thing, 
thrillingly  demonstrative  of  the  depravi- 
ty of  the  nature  which  had  been  created 
in  innocence.  But  this  was  incredible 
— so  gentle,  so  meek,  so  pious,  it  could 
not  be    that   he   who   had   so   recently 


brought  of  the  firstlings  of  his  flock, 
and  to  whom  and  to  whose  offering  the 
Lord  had  had  respect,  should  have  done 
a  deed  from  which  nature  recoils,  and 
courted  that  which  was  the  object  of  a 
dark  and  undefined  dread.  But  if  Abel 
had  not  slain  himself,  by  whom  could  the 
wounds  have  been  inflicted  'I  Alas, 
when  there  were  yet  so  few  in  the  world, 
there  was  little  difficulty  in  fixing  on 
the  criminal.  Adam  and  Eve  must  have 
remembered  how,  when  the  offering  of 
their  elder  son  was  rejected,  "  Cain  was 
very  wroth,  and  his  countenance  fell." 
Yet  was  it  possible  1  human  nature  had 
been  depraved,  but  had  it  been  depraved 
enough  for  this  ]  what,  the  brother  kill 
the  brother  ]  was  man  so  incurably 
wicked,  that,  in  place  of  waiting  for  the 
sentence  upon  sin,  he  could  sin  beyond 
thought  in  order  to  hasten  its  coming  1 
It  seemed  too  bad  for  belief:  Cain  no 
doubt  denied  the  atrocity ;  he  denied 
it  afterwards  to  God,  and  is  not  like- 
ly to  have  confessed  it  to  his  parents. 
Then  these  parents  may  still  have 
thought  that  they  had  not  utterly  cor- 
rupted their  nature  :  they  could  more 
easily  leave  Abel's  death  unexplained, 
than  admit  the  explanation  which  made 
a  murderer  of  Cain.  But  they  must 
have  been  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth 
at  the  view  of  what  they  had  done  in 
disobeying  God — ay,  and  the  men  of 
every  age  were  taught,  that  what  was 
immediately  caused  by  the  fall,  was  the 
total,  radical,  corruption  of  human  na- 
ture— when  the  Eternal  One  Himself 
convicted  the  criminal,  exclaiming  in  the 
words  of  our  text,  "  The  voice  of  thy 
brother's  blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the 
ground." 

But  we  have  spoken  hitherto  only  of 
the  crime  which  had  been  perpetrated 
by  Cain,  being  very  anxious  that  you 
should  judge  from  that  crime  the  extent 
of  the  moral  ruin  which  had  been 
wrought  through  apostasy.  There  is 
certainly  a  surprising  difference,  on 
every  human  calculation,  between  the 
sin  of  our  first  parents,  and  the  sin  of 
their  first  child — the  one,  the  eating  a 
morsel  of  fruit,  the  other,  the  murder  of 
a  brother.  But  we  may  justly  make  use 
of  the  difference  in  estimating  the  effects 
of  the  original  disobedience.  Men  will 
ask,  in  what  degree  was  our  nature  de- 
praved by  the  fall  1  are  we  to  believe 
that  it  became  very  sinful,  capable  of 


THE  EXAMINATION   OF  CAIN. 


255 


very  great  wickedness  ]  We  never  i 
think  that  any  other  answer  is  needed  to  j 
such  questions  than  is  furnished  by  the 
history  now  under  review.  Adam  and 
Eve  transgressed  through  eating  the 
forbidden  fruit:  they  thus,  in  some 
measure  or  another,  corrupted  the  na- 
ture which  they  had  received  innocent 
from  God.  But  the  very  first  being  to 
whom  this  corrupted  nature  was  com- 
muuicated,  raised  his  hand  against  his 
brother,  and  slew  him  out  of  mere  envy, 
though  he  had  done  him  no  wrong — 
judge  ye  then  whether  we  are  right  in 
maintaining  that  human  nature  was 
radically  and  totally  depraved  by  the 
fall,  that  it  was  instantly  capable  of 
the  worst,  not  having  to  become  gi- 
gantic in  evil,  but  being  so  by  being  evil 
at  all  ? 

But  we  wish  now  to  speak  upon  the 
trial,  rather  than  upon  the  crime  :  the 
world  was  yet  young,  and  there  were 
no  judicatories  to  take  cognizance  of 
offences  —  therefore  did  God,  who, 
though  his  creatures  had  rebelled  against 
Him,  still  held  in  his  hands  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world,  come  forth  from  his 
solitude,  and  make  "  inquisition  for 
blood."  It  is  probable  that  there  were 
stated  religious  assemblings  of  the  fa- 
mily of  Adam,  and  that  it  was  at  one  of 
these — the  one  which  followed  the  mur- 
der— that  the  inquiry  took  place  which 
is  registered  in  our  text.  God  had  not 
deserted  our  guilty  race  in  judgment  on 
their  apostasy  ;  but,  having  spared  them 
for  the  sake  of  the  promised  interference 
of  a  Mediator,  He  still  condescended  to 
hold  intercourse  with  them  in  something 
of  the  same  manner  as  whilst  they  yet 
inhabited  Paradise.  Thus,  there  must 
have  been  some  direct  manifestation  of 
his  presence,  when  on  occasion  of  the 
presentation  of  offerings,  He  "had  re- 
spect unto  Abel  and  his  offering,  but 
unto  Cain  and  his  offering  he  had  not 
respect."  This  probably  took  place  at 
one  of  the  stated  gatherings  for  purpo- 
ses of  religion:  and  it  may  have  been 
at  the  next  that  God  took  occasion,  from 
the  absence  of  Abel,  to  address  Cain 
with  the  interrogation  with  which  our 
text  opens. 

But  why — omniscient  as  God  was, 
and,  by  his  own  after-statement,  tho- 
roughly cognizant  of  the  guilt  of  Cain — 
why  did  He  address  the  murderer  with 
the    question,    "  Where    is     Abel     thy 


brother  1  "  in  place  of  taxing  him  at  once 
with  the  atrocious  commission  "2  As- 
suredly there  could  have  been  no  need 
to  God  of  additional  nformation  :  it  was 
in  no  sense  the  same  as  at  a  human  tri- 
bunal, where  questions  are  put  that  facts 
may  be  elicited.  And  in  following  this 
course,  God  acted  as  He  had  done  on 
the  only  former  occasion  when  He  had 
sat,  as  it  were,  in  judgment  on  human 
offenders.  When  our  first  parents  had 
transgressed,  God  conducted  his  whole 
inquiry  by  questions,  though  we  need 
not  say  that  He  must  have  been  tho- 
roughly acquainted  with  all  that  had 
passed.  Adam  hid  himself  from  the 
Lord,  conscious  of  guilt,  and  therefore 
dreading  his  presence.  "  And  the  Lord 
God  called  unto  Adam,  and  said  unto 
him,  Where  art  thou  1 "  God  saw  Adam 
in  his  concealment;  yet  He  seemed  to 
assume  ignorance,  and  required  the  cul- 
prit tc  make  himself  known.  And  on 
Adam's  then  saying  that  He  was  afraid 
because  of  his  nakedness,  fresh  ques- 
tions are  put:  "  Who  told  thee  that  thou 
wast  naked  ]  hast  thou  eaten  of  the  tree 
whereof  I  commanded  thee  that  thou 
shouldest  not  eat1?"  The  same  system 
is  pursued  with  the  woman  on  whom 
Adam  endeavors  to  shift  all  the  blame. 
"  The  Lord  God  said  unto  the  woman, 
What  is  this  that  thou  hast  done  1  "  But 
it  is  very  observable  that  here  the  ques- 
tions end  :  the  woman  throws  the  blame 
on  the  serpent,  and  God  proceeds  to 
pass  sentence  on  the  serpent,  without 
prefacing  it  with  any  inquiry.  "  The 
Lord  God  said  unto  the  serpent,  Be- 
cause thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art  cursed 
above  all  cattle." 

But  the  method  of  question  is  again 
employed,  so  soon  as  there  is  again  a 
human  offender  to  be  tried.  "  The  Lord 
said  unto  Cain,  Where  is  Abol  thy 
brother  ]  "  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  tliat, 
in  all  these  instances,  the  gracious  de- 
sign of  God  was  to  afford  the  criminals 
opportunity  of  confessing  their  crimes. 
We  are  greatly  struck  by  the  difference 
in  the  course  adopted  with  a  fallen  man, 
and  with  a  fallen  angel.  It  is  a  differ- 
ence analogous  to  the  great  but  myste- 
rious distinction,  that  He  taketh  not 
hold  on  angels,  but  that  of  the  (jeed  of 
Abraham  He  doth  take  hold.  A  fallen 
man  was  within  the  possibility  of  par» 
don,  seeing  that,  long  before  he  trans- 
gressed, a  Surety  had  covenanted  to  be- 


256 


THE  EXAMINATION  OP  CAIN. 


come  the  propitiation  for  his  sin.  And 
therefore  might  a  fallen  man  be  invited 
and  encouraged  to  confess  his  sin,  seeing 
that  the  gracious  words  were  actually  in 
force,  though  they  had  not  yet  been  de- 
livered, "  Whoso  confesseth  and  for- 
saketh  his  sins  shall  find  mercy. "  But 
there  was  no  such  possibility  in  the  case 
of  a  fallen  angel  like  Satan,  who  actuat- 
ed the  serpent ;  he  had  been  cast  out 
for  ever  from  heaven  ;  no  mediator  was 
to  arise  to  accomplish  his  reconciliation 
to  God  ;  and  therefore  was  he  not  invit- 
ed to  acknowledge  his  guilt,,  seeing  that 
no  acknowledgement  could  have  effect 
on  his  doom. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  we  would  ex- 
plain the  system  of  questioning  which  is 
so  observable  in  God's  dealings  with  the 
first  human  culprits.  You  must  be 
aware  how,  throughout  Scripture,  there 
is  attached  the  greatest  importance  to 
confession  of  sin,  so  that  its  being  for- 
given is  spoken  of  as  though  it  depend- 
ed upon  nothing  but  its  being  acknow- 
ledged. "  If  we  confess  our  sins,"  saith 
the  evangelist,  "  God  is  faithful  and  just 
to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us 
from  all  unrighteousness."  "  Only," 
saith  the  prophet,  "  acknowledge  thine 
iniquity,  that  thou  hast  transgressed 
against  the  Lord  thy  God."  "  If,"  saith 
the  apostle,  "  thou  shalt  confess  with  thy 
mouth  the  Lord  Jesus  " — for  "  with  the 
mouth  confession  is  made  unto  salva- 
tion." We  are  not  now  to  inquire  in- 
to the  reasons  why  the  confesssion  of 
sin  should  thus  be  instrumental  to  its 
forgiveness,  It  is  sufficient  to  observe 
that  the  whole  procuring  cause  of  the 
forgiveness  of  sin  is  in  the  blood  of  a 
Redeemer  :  but  that  the  application  of 
this  blood,  in  any  particular  instance,  is 
justly  made  conditional  on  the  acquire- 
ment and  display  of  certain  dispositions, 
which  dispositions  will  evidence  them- 
selves in  genuine  contrition,  and  hearty 
confession.  So  that  it  is  not  that,  by 
confessing  our  sins,  we  in  any  sense  or 
measure  deserve  their  forgiveness  ;  but 
only  that  confession,  when  it  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  heart,  argues  the  state  of 
mind  which  God  requires  in  those  whom 
He  pardons — a  state  of  penitential  sor- 
row for  the  past,  and  of  humble  resolu- 
tion for  the  future.  And  therefore,  when 
God  attempts  to  draw  a  criminal  to  con- 
fession, He  is  to  be  understood  as  telling 
him  that  his  sin  is    not  unpardonable ; 


but  that  there  is  yet  a  way,  through  re- 
pentance, to  forgiveness. 

It  is  this,  even  this,  which  we  consid- 
er indicated  by  the  questions  which  He 
proposed  to  Cain.  We  say,  the  ques- 
tions ;  for  you  observe  that  when  the 
murderer,  in  his  hardihood,  had  return- 
ed an  insolent  negative  to  the  inquiry, 
"Where  is  Abel  thy „ brother  1  "  God 
plied  him  with  a  second  question,  "  What 
hast  thou  done  1  "  It  may  be  that  this 
question  again  referred  to  the  murder  : 
and  then  it  is  but  a  repetition  of  the 
first,  a  fresh  attempt  to  extort  from  Cain 
confession  of  his  crime.  But  we  rather 
understand  it  in  another  sense,  as  refer- 
ring to  Cain's  refusal  to  confess.  "  What 
hast  thou  done  1  " — it  is  as  much  as  to 
say,  I  have  given  thee  opportunity  to 
acknowledge  the  crime  of  whose  com- 
mission I  need  no  evidence  but  the  blood 
crying  from  the  ground  :  thou  hast  re- 
fused the  opportunity  :  alas,  then,  what 
hast  thou  done  1  thou  hast  now  made 
thy  punishment  inevitable,  even  as  thy 
guilt  has  all  along  been  unquestion- 
able. 

And  did  the  crime,  then,  of  Cain  come 
within  the  range  of  forgiveness  1  Sup- 
posing it  to  have  been  confessed,  might 
it  also  have  been  pardoned  ]  We  pre- 
sume not  to  say  what  God's  course  with 
Cain  would  have  been,  had  the  murder- 
er displayed  contrition  in  place  of  hard- 
ness and  insolence.  The  crime  had  been 
fearful ;  and  we  must  believe  that,  in 
any  case,  the  moral  Governor  of  the 
universe  would  have  so  treated  the 
criminal  as  to  mark  his  sense  of  the 
atrociousness  of  that  which  he  had  done. 
But  there  is  no  room  for  doubt,  that 
there  was  forgiveness  even  for  Cain  ; 
even  then  there  was  blood  which  spake 
better  things  than  that  of  Abel,  the  blood 
of  Him  who,  on  the  cross,  besought  par- 
don for  his  murderers,  and  who,  in  thus 
showing  that  his  death  made  expiation 
even  for  its  authors,  showed  also  that 
there  was  no  human  sin  which  its  virtue 
would  not  reach.  And  we  do  reckon  it 
among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  early 
notices  of  the  prevalence  of  that  atone- 
ment which  was  to  be  made  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  that  God  should  have  thus 
lingered  with  such  a  criminal  as  Cain, 
delaying  to  pass  sentence  in  hopes  of 
obtaining  confession.  Oh,  it  is  true 
that  there  may  have  been  given  but 
feeble   intimations   to  the  patriarchs  of 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


257 


that  great  scheme  of  rescue,  which,  as 
developed  to  ourselves  in  the  Gospel  of 
Christ,  assures  us  that,  though  our  sins 
be  as  scarlet,  they  may  be  white  as  snow, 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they 
may  be  as  wool :  yet,  whether  or  not 
these  fathers  of  our  race  had  any  clear 
idea  as  to  the  mode  in  which  provision 
would  be  made  for  the  forgiveness  of 
sin,  we  may  be  sure  that  they  were  freed 
from  the  most  oppressive  of  all  burdens, 
the  burden  of  a  belief,  or  even  a  fear, 
that  their  offences  were  too  great  to  be 
pardoned.  The  history  of  Cain  might 
have  sufficed  to  remove  this.  Was  not 
God  omniscient  1  could  any  solitude 
withdraw  from  his  penetrating  gaze  1 
could    any  covering  hide  guilt  from  his 


all-seeim 


eye 


1     Wherefore,   then,  did 


He  question  Cain,  as  though  wanting 
information,  and  unable  to  proceed  in 
his  office  of  Judge,  without  fuller  and 
more  definite  evidence  1  Nay,  the  pa- 
triarchs must  have  known,  as  well  as 
ourselves,  that  these  questions  were  de- 
signed to  induce  confession,  not  to  ex- 
tort proof.  And  why  did  God  labor  to 
induce  confession,  except  that  He  sought 
to  bring  Cain  to  repentance  ]  and  why 
to  repentance,  except  that  He  might  then 
bestow  on  him  pardon  '? 

But  if  Cain  might  have  been  pardon- 
ed, had  he  been  but  penitent,  where  was 
the  contrite  sinner  who  need  despair  of 
the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  1  Ay,  it  is 
thus  that  the  questions  under  review 
might  have  served  as  a  revelation,  during 
the  infancy  of  the  world,  of  the  readi- 
ness of  the  Almighty  to  blot  out  our  ini- 
quities as  a  cloud,  and  as  a  thick  cloud 
our  sins.  There  were  then  no  gracious 
declarations  as  to  the  cleansing  power 
of  the  blood  of  a  Redeemer;  and  there 
bad  not  passed  over  this  fallen  creation, 
words  which  have  only  to  be  breath- 
ed, and  its  waste  places  ought  to  break 
forth  into  singing,  "  The  Son  of  Men  is 
come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost."  But  the  trembling  penitent 
was  not  necessarily  harassed  with  appre- 
hensions of  vengeance.  There  were 
other  visions  floating  before  him  than 
those  of  an  implacable  Deity  and  an  in- 
evitable wrath  ;  he  could  comfort  him- 
self with  the  thought  that  there  was  mer- 
cy with  the  Most  High,  even  for  the 
chief  of  sinners ;  and  if  asked  on  what 
he  rested  such  a  confidence,  he  might 
have  pointed  to  God's  dealings  with 
33 


Cain,  and  have  declared  that  he  found 
grounds  of  assurance  in  the  questions, 
"  Where  is  thy  brother  'I  "  and,  "  What 
hast  thou  done  ]  " 

But  let  us  now  observe  the  manner  in 
which  Cain  acted,  whilst  God  was  thus 
graciously  endeavoring  to  lead  him  to 
repentance.  If  we  had  not  abundant 
evidence,  in  our  own  day — yea,  in  our 
own  cases — of  the  hardening  power  of 
sin,  we  might  wonder  at  the  effrontery 
which  the  murderer  displayed.  Did  he, 
could  he,  think  that  denial  would  avail 
anything  with  God,  so  that,  if  he  did  not 
confess,  he  might  keep  his  crime  unde- 
tected 1  I  know  not  what  measure  of 
blindness  he  may  have  wrought  for  him- 
self through  allowing  his  malice  to  urge 
him  on  to  murder.  But  when  we  find 
it  affirmed,  as  it  is  by  God  Himself  in 
the  book  of  Psalms,  of  a  wicked  man, 
"  Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether 
such  an  one  as  thyself,"  we  may  believe 
that  there  are  scarce  any  limits  to  the 
moral  hardness  and  darkness  which  are 
naturally  the  produce  of  continuance  in 
sin.  There  may  come  upon  a  man  who, 
by  persisting  in  iniquity,  sears  and  stupi- 
fies  conscience,  such  adulness  of  appre- 
hension, such  a  confusion  of  right  and 
wrong,  such  a  loss  of  all  distinction  be- 
tween the  finite  and  the  infinite,  that  he 
shall  be  able  to  persuade  himself  of  the 
truth  of  a  lie,  and  to  ascribe  even  to  God 
his  own  faults  and  imperfections. 

It  may,  therefore,  be,  that  it  was  not 
in  mere  insolence  that  Cain  affirmed  to 
God  that  he  knew  nothing  of  Abel ;  he 
may  have  been  so  blinded  by  his  sin  as 
to  lose  all  discernment  of  the  necessary 
attributes  of  God,  so  that  he  actually 
imagined  that  not  to  confess  would  be 
almost  to  conceal.  Under  this  point  of 
view,  his  instance  ought  to  serve  as  a 
warning  to  us  of  the  deadening  power  of 
wrong-doing,  informing  us  that  there  is 
no  such  ready  way  of  benumbing  the 
understanding,  or  paralyzing  the  reason, 
as  the  indulging  passion,  and  withstand- 
ing conscience.  We  know  not  where 
we  shall  stop,  if  we  once  hearken  to  our 
evil  affections,  and  allow  them  to  lead 
us  captive,  in  spite  of  that  "  still  small 
voice  "  which  pleads  at  some  time  or 
another,  in  every  man's  breast,  for  God 
and  for  truth.  We  may  not  stop  until 
those  powers  of  mind,  which  are  in  vig- 
orous play  on  all  other  science,  are  too 
enfeebled  for  any  due  apprehension  of  an 


258 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


invisible  ruler,  and  the  pale  lamp  which 
Deity  hath  lit  up  within  us,  and  which 
may  still  shed  some  lustre  on  natural 
things,  burns  too  dimly  and  fitfully  to 
allow  of  our  looking,  otherwise  than 
through  vapor  and  mist,  on  what  is 
spiritual  and  eternal.  With  Cain  we 
may  sin,  till,  besotted  into  a  practical 
ignorance  which  could  hardly  be  expect- 
ed in  the  savage  of  the  desert,  we  dream 
of  hiding  from  God  what  we  can  hide 
from  man,  and  are  ready,  were  the  Al- 
mighty to  question  us  on  some  matter  of 
fact,  to  assert  want  of  knowledge,  in  the 
actual  hope  of  concealing  from  the  Om- 
niscient what  we  refuse  to  confess. 

But  Cain  did  more  than  assert  ignorance 
of  what  had  happened  to  Abel  :  he  taxed 
God  with  the  unreasonableness  of  propos- 
ing the  question,  as  though  it  were  a 
strange  thing  to  suppose  that  he  might 
concern  himself  with  his  brother.  "  Am 
I  my  brother's  keeper  'I "  There  can  be  no 
need  of  our  showing  you,  that  this  ques- 
tion marked  the  extraordinary  impiety  of 
Cain  :  everyone  shrinks  from  it :  for  had 
only  some  accident  befallen  Abel,  it  was 
to  have  been  expected  rhat  his  brother 
would  manifest  the  greatest  eagerness  to 
discover  his  fate,  and  the  greatest  sorrow 
at  finding  him  dead.  Had  his  first  as- 
sertion been  true,  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  his  brother,  what  was  to  be  said  of 
the  utter  want  of  natural  affection  ex- 
hibited in  the  question  which  he  went 
on  to  propose  ]  There  were  then  no 
hrothers  in  the  world  but  Cain  and 
Abel ;  and  he  who  co'uld  insolently  ask, 
"  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ]  "  when 
that  brother  was  missing,  might  have 
been  convicted,  by  those  very  words,  of 
a  fierceness  which  was  equal  to  murder, 
and  an  audacity  which  would  deny  it 
even  to  God. 

But  we  wish  to  dwell  for  a  moment  on 
this  question  of  Cain  as  virtually  con- 
taining the  excuse  which  numbers  in 
our  own  day  would  give,  were  God  to 
come  visibly  down,  and  make  inquisition 
for  blood.  You  may  start  at  the  very  men- 
tion of  such  an  inquisition,  and  demand 
what  we  mean  by  supposing  a  possibili- 
ty of  your  committing  the  same  crime 
as  Cain.  Nay,  it  is  not  needful  that 
your  hands  be  red  with  slaughter,  in 
order  to  your  pleading  that  you  are  not 
your  brother's  keeper.  We  assert  that 
God  might  come  down,  and  make  in- 
quisition  for  blood,  though  there  were 


none  upon  whom  actual  murder  could  be 
charged.  Is  there  no  such  thing  in  our 
crowded  community  as  neglect  of  the 
poor  1  might  not  many  a  man  be  fixed  on, 
who  is  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  luxu- 
ry of  life,  and  who  never  gives  even  a 
passing  thought  to  hundreds  who  are 
almost  perishing  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  his  mansion,  never  personally  inquir- 
ing into  their  wants,  and  never  even 
employing  others  to  relieve  their  desti- 
tution ] 

And  what  is  to  be  said  of  the  mur- 
der, the  wholesale  murder,  which,  in  a 
spiritual  sense,  is  chargeable  on  Chris- 
tendom, and  on  ourselves  as  truly  as  on 
any  of  its  sections  1  We  speak  of  the 
murder  of  souls.  Is  it  no  murder,  when 
thousands  in  our  own  land  are  left  with- 
out the  bread  of  life,  consigned  to  star- 
vation, through  an  utter  destitution  of  the 
public  means  of  grace  1  Is  it  no  mur- 
der, when  year  after  year  idolatry  is 
suffered  to  sweep  away  its  vast  host  of 
victims,  and  we  make  no  missionary  effort 
commensurate  with  the  enormous  evii 
which  we  are  called  on  to  oppose '? 
Nay,  it  is  more  than  the  murder  of  souls  : 
it  is  the  murder  of  the  whole  man,  body 
and  soul  :  for  what  say  you  to  the  mul- 
titude whose  bones  lie  bleaching  on  the 
deserts  of  heathenism,  a  multitude  which 
has  perished  through  the  power  of  su- 
perstition, having  immolated  themselves 
to  some  bloody  idol,  or  been  worn  down 
by  the  macerations  which  falsehood  has 
prescribed  %  Who  will  affirm  that  we 
are  innocent  herein  ?  that  there  goes  up 
against  us  no  accusing  voice  from  the 
thousands  that  are  continually  perishing 
through  the  abominations  of  Paganism  \ 
It  is  not  wholly  chargeable  on  ourselves, 
that  these  abominations  prevail,  that 
they  have  not  long  ago  been  supplanted 
by  the  genial  influences  of  Christianity. 
But  have  we  been  valiant  for  the  truth 
up  to  the  measure  of  our  ability  \  have 
we  done  our  utmost  towards  spreading 
that  Gospel,  which  alone  can  extinguish 
idolatry,  and  put  an  arrest  on  the  de- 
struction of  vast  portions  of  our  race  ? 
So  far  as  wo  have  been  negligent, 
so  far  as  we  have  been  remiss  in  bring- 
ing to  bear  upon  heathenism  the  en- 
gines of  Christianity — and,  alas  !  how 
far  below  our  powers  have  been  our  en- 
deavors— we  have  been  distinctly  instru- 
mental to  the  slaughter  of  our  fellow- 
men,  the  slaughter  of  body   and  soul — > 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


2~>D 


what,  we  might  have  prevented,  we  may 
be  said  to  have  committed. 

Then  it  would  not  be  a  process  in 
which  we  had  personally  no  concern, 
were  the  Almighty  to  descend  that  He 
might  make  inquisition  for  blood.  And 
if  each  would  honestly  search  into  his 
own  thoughts  and  feelings,  he  might 
find  himself  ready  to  meet  every  in- 
quiry into  the  fate  of  his  brother,  with 
something  of  the  question  with  which 
Cain  answered  God.  If  those  who  are 
neglectful  of  their  fellow-men,  earing 
little  for  the  temporal  distress  by  which 
numbers  are  consumed,  and  still  less  for 
the  spiritual  famine  by  which  whole  na- 
tions are  wasted,  were  taxed  with  their 
negligence — taxed  in  such  manner  as 
should  imply  that  they,  in  their  measure, 
were  answerable  for  a  slaughter  which 
is  turning  large  districts  of  the  earth 
into  valleys  like  that  to  which  the  Pro- 
phet was  carried,  where  lay,  in  mighty 
piles,  the  bones  of  many  generations — 
oh,  what  would  they  commonly  do  but 
shift  off  the  blame,  urging  that  they  had 
enough  to  do  in  consulting  for  them- 
selves and  their  immediate  dependents, 
and  that  there  were  no  such  links  of  as- 
sociation between  them  and  the  stran- 
ger as  made  it  imperative  that  they 
should  engage  in  large  schemes  of  be- 
nevolence 1  Am  I  the  keeper  of  the 
Hindu,  the  Indian,  the  Hottentot  ?  Am 
T  the  keeper  of  the  savage,  who,  on 
some  distant  continent  or  island,  offers 
his  first-born  or  himself  to  a  blood- 
thirsty deity,  the  creation  of  his  fears, 
the  offspring  of  his  ignorance  t  Is  the 
savage  thy  brother  ]  Is  it,  or  is  it  not 
true,  that  God  "hath  made  of  one  blood 
all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  all 
the  face  of  the  earth  'i  "  If  all  have 
sprung  from  the  same  parents,  then  the 
wild  wanderer,  the  painted  barbarian,  is 
thv  Brother,  though  civilization  may 
have  separated  you  by  so  wide  an  inter- 
val, that  you  scarcely  seem  to  belong  to 
the  same  race.  And,  being  thy  brother, 
it  is  bat  to  imitate  Cain,  to  plead  that  it 
is  not  thine  office  to  attend  to  his  wel- 
fare. It  is  thine  office.  There  is  no 
man  who  is  not  bound  to  do  his  utmost 
for  the  good  of  every  other  man.  He 
is  bound,  because  every  man  is  the  bro- 
ther of  every  man.  The  missionary 
enterprize  is  nothing  but  the  truth  of 
universal  brotherhood,  reduced  into 
piactice.     It  is  no  mere  burst  of  spiritu- 


al chivalry,  the  fine  and  splendid  scheme 
of  lofty  enthusiasts,  who  would  can  v 
into  religion  the  passions  which  find 
vent  in  the  heroic  deeds  of  war.  It  is 
simply  the  doctrine  of  a  common  origin, 
suffered  to  produce  its  natural  fruits.  It. 
is  the  acknowledgment  of  our  having  had 
but  one  father,  registered  in  action  as 
well  as  in  word.  And  therefore  let  all 
learn,  that,  if  they  excuse  themselves 
from  the  duty  of  ministering  to  the  suf- 
fering ;  if  they  confine  their  solicitude 
and  their  liberality  to  the  few  with  whom 
they  are  most  closely  connected,  treat- 
ing all  the  rest  of  the  human  family  as 
strangers  for  whom  they  are  not  bound 
to  care — ah,  they  may  indeed  imagine 
that  they  make  out  a  very  plausible 
case  ;  for  what  have  they  to  do  with 
the  savage  and  the  foreigner  1  is  there 
not  enough  nearer  home  to  exhaust  all 
their  efforts'? — but  let  them  know  as- 
suredly, that,  when  the  Lord  cometh, 
as  come  He  shall,  to  make  inquisition 
for  blood,  they  shall  be  dealt  with  as 
though  like  Cain,  yet  reeking  from  the 
slaughter  of  Abel,  they  had  parried  the 
inquiries  of  an  all-seeing  God  with  the 
insolent  question,  "  Am  I  my  brother's 
keeper  1  " 

But  we  have  now  to  consider  to  what 
God  appealed  in  the  absence  of  con- 
fession from  the  murderer  himself:  He 
had  striven  to  induce  Cain  to  acknowl- 
edge his  guilt  ;  but,  failing  in  this,  He 
must  seek  elsewhere  for  evidence  on 
which  to  convict  him.  And  where  does 
He  find  this  evidence  ]  He  might  un- 
doubtedly have  referred  to  his  own  om- 
niscience, to  the  observation  of  an  eye 
which  neverslumbers  norsleeps.  Think- 
est  thou,  He  might  have  said  to  the  cul- 
prit, that  I  require  any  testimony  to  assure 
me  of  thy  guilt  'I  Did  I  not  see  thee 
when  thine  hand  was  raised  against  thy 
brother?  was  I  not  by  thy  side,  though 
thou  didst  impiously  suppose  thyself 
alone  with  thy  victim,  and  thou  dost 
now,  as  impiously,  think  that  denial  is 
the  same  thing  as  concealment  1  I  want 
no  evidence  :  I  condemn  thee  for  what 
I  beheld  :  away,  and  be  a  wanderer  and 
an  outcast,  a  terror  to  thyself,  and  to  all 
that  shall  meet  thee. 

But  the  observable  thing  is,  that  God 
did  not  thus  appeal  to  his  omniscience: 
He  did  not  rest  his  conviction  of  Cain 
on  the  fact  that  the  murder  had  been 
committed   under  the   very  eye  of  the 


2G0 


THE  EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


Judge  :  but  He  made  the  inanimate  cre- 
ation rise  up,  as  it  were,  against  the  as- 
sassin, and  dumb  things  became  elo- 
quent in  demanding  his  condemnation. 
"  The  voice  of  thy  brother's  blood  cri- 
eth  unto  me  from  the  ground."  And 
when  the  Almighty  proceeds  to  pass 
sentence,  the  inanimate  creation,  which 
had  testified  to  the  guilt,  is  made  to  take 
part  in  the  vengeance,  as  though  it  had 
been  wronged  and  injured  by  the  foul 
perpetration,  and  therefore  claimed 
share  in  the  punishment  of  the  criminal. 
"And  now  art  thou  cursed  from  the 
earth,  which  hath  opened  her  mouth  to 
receive  thy  brother's  blood  from  thy 
hand." 

Who  has  not  read,  who  has  not  heard, 
how  murderers,  though  they  have  suc- 
ceeded in  hiding  their  guilt  from  their 
fellow-men,  have  seemed  to  themselves 
surrounded  with  witnesses  and  avengers, 
so  that  the  sound  of  their  own  foot-tread 
has  startled  them  as  if  it  had  been  the 
piercing  cry  of  an  accuser,  and  the  rust- 
ling of  every  tree,  and  the  murmur  of 
every  brook,  has  sounded  like  the  ut- 
terance of  one  clamorous  for  their  pun- 
ishment 1  It  has  been  as  nothing,  that 
they  have  screened  themselves  from 
those  around  them,  and  are  yet  moving 
in  society  with  no  suspicion  attaching  to 
them  of  their  having  done  so  foul  a 
thing  as  murder.  They  have  felt,  as 
though,  in  the  absence  of  all  accusation 
from  beings  of  their  own  race,  they  had 
arrayed  against  themselves  the  whole 
visible  creation,  sun  and  moon  and  stars 
and  forests  and  waters  growing  vocal 
that  they  might  publish  their  crime. 
And  I  know  not  whether  there  may  be 
any  thing  more  in  this  than  the  mere 
goading  and  imaging  of  conscience ; 
whether  the  disquieted  assassin,  to 
whose  troubled  eye  the  form  of  his  vic- 
tim is  given  back  from  every  mirror  in 
the  universe,  and  on  whose  ear  there  falls 
no  sound  which  does  not  come  like  the  dy- 
ing man's  shriek,  or  the  thundering  call 
of  the  avenger  of  blood — whether  he 
is  simply  to  be  considered  as  haunted 
and  hunted  by  his  own  evil  thoughts  ; 
or  whether  he  be  indeed  subjected  to 
some  mysterious  and  terrible  influences 
with  which  his  crime  has  impregnated 
and  endowed  the  whole  material  sys- 
tem. I  cannot  help  feeling,  when  I 
consider  the  language  of  our  text,  as 
though  there  might   be  more  than  the 


mere  phantasms  of  a  diseased  and  dis- 
tracted mind  in  those  forms  of  fear,  and 
thobe  sounds  of  wrath,  which  agitate  so 
tremendously  the  yet  undiscovered  mur- 
derer. It  may  be,  that,  fashioned  as 
man  is  out  of  the  dust  of  the  earth, 
there  are  such  links  between  him  and 
the  material  creation,  that,  when  the 
citadel  of  his  life  is  rudely  invaded,  the 
murderous  blow  is  felt  throughout  the 
vast  realm  of  nature  ;  so  that,  though 
there  he  no  truth  in  the  wild  legend, 
that,  if  the  assassin  enter  the  chambei 
where  the  victim  is  stretched,  the  ga 
ping  wounds  will  bleed  afresh,  yet  may 
earth,  sea,  air,  have  sympathy  with  the 
dead,  and  form  themselves  into  furies  to 
hunt  down  his  destroyer.  It  may  have 
been  more  than  a  mere  rhetorical  ex- 
pression when  God  assigned  a  voice  to 
the  ground  that  was  saturated  with  hu- 
man blood.  And  there  may  be  utter- 
ances, which  are  more  than  the  coin- 
ings of  his  own  racked  conscience,  to  the 
murderer — utterances  which,  though 
heard  only  by  himself,  because  himself 
alone'  hath  dislocated  a  chord  in  the 
great  harmonies  of  creation — may  speak 
piercingly  of  the  frightful  atrocity,  and 
invoke  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  on  the 
wretch  who  hath  dared  to  withdraw  one 
note  from  the  universal  anthem. 

But  it  is  not  exclusively,  nor  even 
chiefly,  as  indicating  a  possible,  though 
inexplicable  sympathy  between  materi- 
al things  and  the  victim  of  the  murder- 
er, that  we  reckon  the  statement  before 
us  deserving  of  being  carefully  ponder- 
ed. Setting  aside  this  sympathy,  there 
is  much  that  is  very  memorable  in  the 
appeal  of  God  to  a  voice  from  Abel's 
blood,  when  there  were  other  witnesses 
which  might  have  been  produced.  Had 
not  the  soul  of  Abel  entered  the  separ- 
ate state  1  was  not  his  spirit  with  God  ] 
and  might  not  the  immortal  principle, 
violently  detached  as  it  had  been  from 
the  body,  have  cried  for  vengeance  on 
the  murderer]  We  read  in  the  Book 
of  Revelation  of  "  the  souls  of  them 
that  were  slain  for  the  word  of  God, 
and  for  the  testimony  which  they  held." 
And  of  those  souls  we  are  told,  that 
"  they  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying, 
How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost 
thou  not  judge  and  avenge  our  blood  on 
them  that  dwell  on  the  earth  ]  "  It 
may  therefore  be,  that  the  souls  of  the 
dead  cry  for  judgment  upon  those  who 


THE   EXAMINATION 


231 


nave  compassed  their  death  :  why  then 
might  not  the  soul  of  Abel,  rather  than 
nis  blood,  have  been  adduced  by  God  1 
even  had  it  been  silent,  surely  its  very 
presence  in  the  invisible  world  gave  a 
more  impressive  testimony  than  the 
stream  which  had  crimsoned  the  ground. 

In  answer  to  this,  we  are  to  consider, 
in  the  first  place,  that  it  did  not  please 
God  to  vouchsafe  any  clear  revelation  of 
the  invisible  state,  during  the  earlier 
ages  of  the  world.  V^e  cannot  deter- 
mine what  degree  of  acquaintance  our 
first  parents  possessed  with  a  life  after 
death;  but  when  we  remember  what 
cloud  and  darkness  hung  over  the  grave, 
even  to  those  who  lived  under  the  Jew- 
ish economy,  we  may  well  doubt  wheth- 
er Adam  and  Eve  had  any  clear  appre- 
hension of  a  state  in  which  wickedness 
would  be  eternally  punished,  and  right- 
eousness everlastingly  rewarded.  And 
it  is  to  my  mind  one  of  the  most  touch- 
ing of  the  circumstances  which  charac- 
terize their  condition,  that  God,  in  mak- 
ing inquisition  for  the  blood  of  their  son, 
should  have  given  a  voice,  as  it  were,  to 
the  dead  body,  but  none  to  the  living 
soul.  Oh,  how  soothingly  would  it  have 
fallen  on  the  ear  of  the  agonized  parents, 
had  God  spoken  of  Abel  as  existing  in 
the  invisible  world,  as  testifying  by  his 
presence  in  some  bright  scene  which  the 
spoiler  could  not  enter,  that  the  hand  of 
violence  had  forced  him  from  the  earth. 
That  Abel  had  fallen  by  the  hand  of  his 
brother,  was  the  most  terrible  of  all  pos- 
sible proofs,  that  the  original  transgres- 
sion had  corrupted  human  nature  to  the 
core.  But  it  would  have  done  much — 
not  indeed  to  counterbalance  this  proof, 
but  to  soften  the  anguish  which  it  could 
not  fail  to  produce — had  there  been  any 
intimation  that  the  death  of  the  body 
was  not  the  death  of  the  man,  and  that 
Cain  had  but  removed  Abel  from  a  scene 
of  trouble  to  one  of  deep  repose. 

This  however  was  denied  them  :  they 
must  struggle  on  through  darkness,  sus- 
tained only  by  a  dim  conjecture  of  life 
and  immortality.  Indeed,  indeed,  I 
know  not  whether  there  be  any  thing 
more  affecting  in  the  history  of  our  first 
parents.  Oh,  bless  God,  ye  who  have 
had  to  sorrow  over  dead  children,  that 
ye  live  when  life  and  immortality  have 
been  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel. 
Your's  has  not  been  the  deep  and  deso- 
late bitterness  of  those  on  whom  fell  no 


shillings  from  futurity.  Unto  you  have 
come  sweet  whisperings  from  the  invi- 
sible world,  whisperings  as  of  the  one 
whom  you  loved,  telling  you  of  a  better 
land,  where  "  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 
But  alas  for  Adam  and  Eve  !  their's  was 
grief,  stern,  dark,  unmingled.  Taught 
by  the  foul  deed  of  Cain  how  fatally 
they  had  tainted  their  nature,  they  were 
not  also  taught,  by  any  information  as  u 
the  condition  of  Abel,  how  nevertheless 
that  nature  might  be  purified  and  exalt 
eel.  They  listen  with  all  earnestness  as 
God  prosecutes  inquiry  into  the  murder. 
Perhaps  some  consolatory  word  will  be 
dropped,  some  expression  which  shall 
partially  disclose  to  them  the  secrets  of 
the  grave.  But  they  listen  in  vain  ;  the 
time  has  not  yet  come  when  God  would 
please  to  reveal  another  world  ;  and  it 
must  have  been  almost  as  though  there 
had  been  a  repetition  of  the  stroke  which 
had  made  them  so  heavy  at  heart,  when 
in  place  of  any  notice  of  the  soul  of 
Abel,  they  only  heard  God  declare, 
"  The  voice  of  thy  brother's  blood  crieth 
unto  me  from  the  ground.  " 

But  indeed  there  are  better  things  to 
be  said  on  the  fact,  that  it  was  Abel's 
blood,  and  not  his  soul,  which  found  a 
voice  to  demand  vengeance  on  the  mur- 
derer. The  souls,  as  we  have  seen  from 
the  Book  of  Revelation,  of  numbers  who 
had  fallen  by  the  sword  of  persecution, 
cried  to  God  that  He  would  judge  those 
whose  cruelty  had  forced  them  from 
the  earth.  But  we  can  hardly  interpret 
this  cry  as  that  of  a  desire  for  revenge, 
— revenge,  that  is,  for  wrongs  individu- 
ally and  personally  received.  There 
were  something  quite  at  variance  with 
our  every  notion  of  glorified  spirits,  iw 
supposing  that,  in  place  of  forgiving 
their  enemies,  they  long  and  pray  lot 
their  beinor  destroyed.  The  best  inter- 
pretation therefore,  which  we  can  put 
on  the  passage  in  the  Book  of  Revela- 
tion, would  seem  to  be,  that,  forasmuch 
as  the  persecutors  were  the  enemies  of 
God,  and  the  great  desire  of  the  souls 
of  the  righteous  must  be  for  the  glory 
of  God,  the  cry,  "  How  long,  O  Lord, 
holy  and  true'"  denotes  intense  long- 
ing for  the  predicted  season  when  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  are  to  become 
the  kingdoms  of  the  Lord  and  of  his 
Christ,  when  all  opposing  powers  shall 
finally  yield  to   that  of    the  Mediator. 


•G2 


THE   EXAMINATION  OF  CAIN. 


There  may  be  a  difficulty  in  clearing  a 
desire  for  vengeance  of  all  unholy  pas- 
sion, when  the  parties  on  whom  the  ven- 
geance is  to  descend  have  cruelly  wrong- 
ed those  by  whom  the  desire  is  express- 
ed :  but  we  must  believe  that  hereafter, 
when  every  lesser  feeling  shall  be  ab- 
sorbed in  those  of  love  of  God  and  zeal 
for  his  honor,  there  will  be  a  holy  long- 
ing for  the  overthrow  of  the  inveterate 
foes  of  the  Church,  which  shall  have  no 
alliance  whatsoever  with  what  we  now 
call  vindictiveness,  though  these  foes 
may  have  been  personally  injurious  to 
the  glorified  spirits. 

If  there  were  nothing  to  be  avenged 
but  wrongs  done  to  themselves,  it  can- 
not be  thought  that  souls  in  the  separate 
state  would  cry  for  the  lighting  down  of 
God's  mighty  arm.  But  it  is  also  God 
who  has  been  wronged ;  it  is  God's 
honor  which  has  to  be  vindicated ;  and 
souls  which  would  breathe  only  forgive- 
ness for  any  personal  injury,  may  mani- 
fest nothing  but  the  ardency  of  the  ho- 
liest affection  in  breathing  desires  for 
vengeance  on  those  who  have  done  de- 
spite to  the  Creator  and  Redeemer. 

And  yet,  though  we  cannot  charge  any 
thing  of  human  vindictiveness  on  the 
souls  of  them  slain  for  the  word  of  God, 
which  St.  John  saw  beneath  the  altar, 
we  must  all  feel  as  though  there  were 
something  beautifully  expressive  in  the 
silence  maintained  by  the  spirit  of  Abel. 
It  would  indeed,  as  we  have  said,  have 
served  as  a  Revelation,  full  of  consola- 
tory truth  to  Adam  and  Eve,  had  God 
assigned  a  voice  to  the  soul,  rather  than 
to  the  blood,  of  their  slaughtered  son. 
But  who  would  not  have  felt  as  though 
it  had  been  to  make  Abel  revengeful,  to 
represent  his  spirit  as  crying  to  the  Al- 
mighty for  judgment  on  his  murderer1? 
The  case  would  have  been  different  from 
that  of  the  souls  under  the  altar,  inas- 
much as  the  wrong  had  been  more  evi- 
dently personal,  directed  against  the  in- 
dividual, rather  than  against  a  body,  to 
injure  which  was  to  offer  insult  to  God. 
And  we  could  not  therefore  have  so  easi- 
ly disentangled  the  expressed  desire  for 
vengeance  from  all  those  earthly  and 
sinful  feelings  which  cannot,  as  we  know, 
have  any  subsistence  in  the  disembodied 
souls  of  the  righteous.  But  now  we 
seem  to  find,  in  the  silence  of  Abel's 
spirit,  the  same  forbearance,  the  same 
eagerness  for  the  good  of  the  cruel  and 


injurious,  as  was  expressed  by  Christ 
when  being  crucified,  and  by  Stephen 
when  being  stoned.  "  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do," 
exclaimed  Jesus  as  his  murderers  nailed 
Him  to  the  tree.  And  just  ere  he  fell 
asleep,  Stephen  "  kneeled  down,  and 
cried  with  a  loud  voice,  Lord,  lay  not 
this  sin  to  their  charge."  We  know  not 
how  Abel,  the  first  martyr,  died.  We 
are  not  told  what  was  his  last#  utterance, 
nor  what  the  look  which  he  cast  upon 
Cain,  as  he  felt  that  life  was  ebbing  fast 
away.  But  we  seem  able  to  follow  his 
spirit  into  the  separate  state  ;  and  we 
may  venture  to  gather  that  he  died  with 
forgiveness  on  his  lips,  from  the  fact 
that  he  entered  God's  presence  with  no 
complaint  against  his  murderer.  He 
could  not  cause  that  the  dumb  should 
not  speak.  He  could  not  prevent  the 
ground,  which  had  drunk  in  his  blood, 
from  crying  unto  God  to  avenge  the  foul 
outrage.  But  the  immortal  principle, 
which  might  have  poured  forth  the  nar- 
rative of  the  crime,  and  have  besought 
that  the  Lord,  to  whom  vengeance  be- 
longeth,  would  interpose  for  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  criminal — this  appears  to 
have  been  meekly  silent,  as  though  it 
would  have  shielded  the  murderer,  rath- 
er than  have  exposed  him  to  his  just  re- 
tribution. 

Oh,  I  cannot  but  think  that  in  God's 
reference  to  the  blood  of  Abel  as  the  on- 
ly accuser,  there  was  a  designed  and 
beautiful  lesson  as  to  the  forgiveness  of 
injuries.  God  was  not  pleased  to  give, 
at  the  moment,  an  explicit  revelation  as 
to  the  immortality  of  Abel.  But  so  far 
as  that  immortality  was  ascertained  from 
other  sources,  and  in  proportion  that,  in 
the  progress  of  time,  it  grew  into  an  ar- 
ticle of  faith,  there  was  a  most  expres- 
sive statement  as  to  the  character  which 
God  requires  in  those  whom  He  accepts, 
in  the  statement  that  it  was  not  Abel, 
but  only  his  blood,  which  cried  out  for 
vengeance.  You  know,  that,  in  the  Gos- 
pel, our  obtaining  forgiveness  from  God 
is  made  conditional  on  our  forgiving 
those  by  whom  we  may  be  wronged. 
"  For  if  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses, 
your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive 
you.  But  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their 
trespasses,  neither  will  your  Father  for- 
give your  trespasses."  And  was  not  the 
same  truth  taught,  by  example,  if  not  by 
word,   from    the    earliest    days,   seeing1 


THE  EXAMINATION  OK  CAIN. 


263 


,hat,  when  God  would  bring  an  accusing 
voice  against  Cain,  He  could  only  find 
it  in  the  dumb  earth  reeking  with  blood, 
though  the  soul  of  Abel  was  before  Him, 
and  might  have  been  thought  ready  to 
give  witness  with  an  exceeding  great 
and  bitter  cry  1  Abel  forgave  his  mur- 
derer— otherwise  could  he  not  have  been 
forgiven  of  God — and  we  learn  that  he 
forgave  his  murderer,  from  the  fact,  that 
it  was  only  his  blood  which  cried  aloud 
for  vengeance. 

Thus  is  there  something  very  in- 
structive in  the  absence  of  any  voice  but 
the  voice  from  the  ground.  There  is 
also  matter  for  deep  thought  in  the  fact, 
that  it  was  blood  which  sent  up  so  pene- 
trating a  cry.  It  was  like  telling  the 
young  world  of  the  power  which  there 
would  be  in  blood  to  gain  audience  of 
the  Most  High.  I  do  not  say,  that, 
whilst  there  were  yet  but  feeble  notices 
of  a  Redeemer,  men  might  gather,  from 
the  energy  ascribed  to  the  blood  of  Abel, 
the  virtue  which  would  be  resident  in 
that  of  Christ.  But  to  ourselves,  unto 
whom  has  been  laid  open  the  great 
6cheme  of  redemption,  it  may  certainly 
come  like  one  of  the  first  notices  of 
atonement  through  blood,  which  speak- 
eth  better  things  than  that  of  Abel,  that 
so  mighty  a  voice  went  up  in  accusation 
of  Cain.  What  was  there  in  blood,  that 
it  could  give,  as  it  were,  life  to  inanimate 
things,  causing  them  to  become  vocal, 
so  that  the  very  Godhead  Himself  was 
moved  by  the  sound  ]  The  utterance, 
we  think,  did  but  predict  that  when  one, 


to  whom  Abel  had  had  respect  in  pre- 
senting in  sacrifice  the  firstlings  of  his 
flock,  should  fall,  as  Abel  fell,  beneath 
the  malice  of  the  wicked,  there  would 
go  up  from  the  shed  blood  a  voice  that 
would  be  hearkened  to  in  the  heavenly 
courts,  and  prevail  to  the  obtaining  what- 
soever it  should  ask. 

Blessed  be  God  that  this  blood  does 
not  plead  for  vengeance  alone.  It  does 
plead  for  vengeance  on  the  obdurate, 
who,  like  Cain,  resist  the  invitation  of 
God  :  but  it  pleads  also  for  the  pardon 
of  the  murderers,  so  that  it  can  expiate 
the  crime  which  it  proves  and  attests. 
And  whilst  the  blood  of  the  slain  pleads 
for  us,  the  slain  Himself  is  not  silent. 
Abel  could  only  refrain  from  speech  in 
the  invisible  world — but  Christ  is  not 
merely  not  our  accuser,  He  is  even  our 
advocate.  O  blessed  and  glorious  differ- 
ence! We  have  not,  like  Cain,  raised 
the  hand  to  slay  a  brother,  but  alas  !  we 
have  destroyed  ourselves ;  and  the  cry 
for  vengeance  ascends  from  a  creation 
which  "groaneth  and  travaileth"  through 
this  our  iniquity.  But  this  cry  is  lost 
in  a  mightier,  the  cry,  "  It  is  finished," 
the  cry  of  a  surety,  the  cry  of  an  Inter- 
cessor. Let  us  only  then  take  heed  that 
we  copy  not  Cain  m  his  insolent  refusal 
to  acknowledge  his  guilt,  and  though, 
as  against  him,  there  be  a  cry  from  the 
earth,  demanding  our  punishment,  there 
will  be  a  cry  from  the  firmament  which 
was  silent,  if  it  did  not  accuse  the  mur- 
derer— "  Deliver  them  from  going  down 
into  the  pit;  I  have  found  a  ransom." 


The  first  five  of  the  following  Sermons  were  preached  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  printed  by  the  Corporation 
of  Trinity  House  for  their  own  use.  It  has  been  intimated  to  the  author 
by  several  friends,  that  their  publication  in  the  present  form  would  be 
acceptable,  more  especially  if  combined  with  other  of  his  Sermons 
delivered  upon  public  occasions.  He  has  therefore  been  induced  to 
commit  this  Volume  to  the  press,  hoping  that  it  may  not  altogether  dis- 
appoint the  expectation  so  kindly  entertained. 

East  India  College, 
Nov.  15,  1846. 


SERMONS 


PREACHED  ON  PUBLIC  OCCASIONS. 


SEEMON   1  .* 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


But  it  shall  not  be  so  anion?  you :  but  whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  minister ;  and  whosoever 
will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant :  even  as  the  Son  of  nvn  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister."— St.  Matthew  xx.  26,  27,  28. 


We  can  easily  suppose,  that,  if  we 
introduced  these  words,  without  illus- 
tration or  comment,  into  a  circle  of  men 
unaccustomed  to  the  acting  on  high 
Christian  principles,  they  would  be  re- 
ceived with  feelings  of  scorn  and  dislike. 
If  in  addressing  an  individual,  whose 
prime  object  it  is  to  make  himself  distin- 
guished upon  earth,  we  were  to  recom- 
mend to  him  the  becoming  the  servant 
of  his  fellow-men,  as  the  surest  mode 
of  reaching  the  coveted  eminence,  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  our  counsel,  on 
first  hearing,  would  be  considered  as  an 
insult.  Yet  we  believe  it  susceptible 
of  the  clearest  proof,  that  in  the  precept 
or  direction  of  our  text  lies  the  secret 
of  that  chieftaincy  which  alone  deserves 
the  name.  We  may  venture  to  affirm, 
that  it  is  to  those  who  are  the  servants 
and  ministers  of  their  fellow-men  that 
the  world  itself  attaches  the  appellation 
of  great ;  and  that  in  proportion  as  the 
service  and  ministry  are  more  laborious, 


*  Preached  before  the  Corporation  of  Trinity- 
House,  on  Trinity  Monday,  1838. 


and  extend  over  broader  districts  of  the 
earth,  is  there  greater  alacrity  in  bestow- 
ing the  title.  We  will  not  deny  that 
there  may  be  apparent  exceptions,  and 
that  some  have  been  designated  great, 
though  even  flattery  could  scarce  urge 
that  they  had  rendered  signal  service  to 
others.  But  however  it  may  sometimes 
happen  that  those  who  tread  a  dazzling, 
but  destructive,  career,  win  from  the 
world  the  reputation  of  greatness,  the 
falseness  of  the  ascription  is  sooner  or 
later  acknowledged.  When  a  man's 
achievements  have  become  matter  of 
history,  and  we  can  sit  in  judgment  on 
his  pretensions  without  the  bias  caused 
by  too  great  proximity,  the  verdict  is 
commonly  reversed  :  neither  the  bold- 
ness of  his  undertakings,  nor  the  bril- 
liancy of  his  success,  will  prevail  on  us 
to  ratify  a  decision  which  awards  the 
denomination  of  great  to  one  who  has 
wrought  injury,  and  not  benefit,  to  the 
mass  of  humankind. 

It  will,  we  think,  be  found  very  ap- 
propriate to  the  present  occasion  and 
circumstances,  that  we  should  show  you 


268 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


how  the  secret  of  greatness  is  contained 
in  those  words  of  our  blessed  Savior 
which  we  have  chosen  as  our  text.  Our 
assertion  is,  that,  in  awarding  the  palm 
of  true  greatness,  men  are  accustomed, 
however  unconsciously,  to  act  upon  the 
principle,  that  whosoever  will  be  chief 
must  be  the  servant  of  all.  To  make 
good  this  assertion,  it  will  only  be  ne- 
cessary that  we  observe  the  cases  in 
which,  by  universal  consent,  the  title 
"  great"  is  bestowed. 

Now  if  a  man  have  displayed  extra- 
ordinary patriotism,  so  that,  when  his 
country  has  bent  beneath  the  yoke  of 
oppression,  there  have  been  the  stirrings 
within  him  of  an  indomitable  resolve  to 
overthrow  tyranny,  and  correspondent 
strivings  to  wrench  off  the  chain  by 
which  his  native  land  was  bound — we 
may  safely  affirm  of  this  man,  that  his 
name  will  be  shrined  in  the  hearts,  and 
woven  into  the  songs,  of  successive  gen- 
erations ;  and  that  there  will  be  a  thor- 
ough unanimity,  amongst  all  who  hear 
his  deeds,  as  to  the  justice  of  assigning 
him  the  appellation  of  great.  You  will 
not  find  a  dissentient  voice,  when  opin- 
ions are  being  gathered  as  to  the  merits 
of  one  who  stood  up  nobly  in  the  face 
of  the  enemies  of  liberty,  and  won  for  a 
country,  trampled  down  by  a  despot, 
that  blessing  of  freedom  which  gives  its 
worth  to  every  other.  Yet  what  has 
this  patriot  made  himself  but  the  servant 
of  his  countrymen  1  It  was  in  order  to 
the  ministering  to  the  well-being  of  thou- 
sands, that  he  threw  himself  into  the 
breach,  and  challenged  tyranny  to  the 
battle.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  securing 
the  rights  of  those  who  trod  the  same 
soil  with  himself,  that  he  arose  as  the 
champion  of  the  wretched  and  injured. 
We  will  not  indeed  say  that  his  motives 
were  unmixed,  so  that  he  has  been  act- 
uated by  nothing  having  alliance  with 
selfishness.  On  the  contrary,  there  may 
nave  been  little  which  could  rightly  be 
called  disinterested ;  and  his  actions,  if 
analyzed  in  their  springs,  might  lose 
half  their  splendor.  But,  practically  at 
least,  whatever  may  have  been  his  de- 
sign, this  patriot  has  acted  as  the  minis- 
ter to  others ;  and  it  is  simply  because 
he  has  so  acted,  that  he  has  encircled 
himself  with  imperishable  renown.  He 
has  pleaded  the  cause  of  others,  and 
dashed  away  the  chain  of  others,  and 
wrought  a  vast  deliverance  for  others : 


and  the  result  is  the  same  as  though, 
with  a  fine  forgetfulness  of  self,  he  had 
devoted  every  energy  and  every  re- 
source to  the  good  of  others,  and  cast 
time,  and  talent,  and  strength,  into  one 
mighty  sacrifice,  that  others  might  be 
advantaged  by  the  prodigal  oblation. 
So  that,  whilst  a  world  is  pronouncing 
his  panegyric,  and  his  fame  seems  only 
to  increase  as  it  is  borne  along  from  one 
age  to  another,  we  can  confidently  point 
him  out,  as  exemplifying  the  truth  of 
what  Christ  said  to  his  disciples  in  our 
text :  for  if  you  would  describe  the 
mode  in  which  he  has  gained  his  pre- 
eminent honors,  you  could  not  do  it  more 
accurately  than  by  representing  him  as 
having  acted  on  the  maxim,  "  he  who 
would  be  chief  amongst  you,  let  him  be 
your  servant." 

The  case  is  the  same  with  the  phi- 
losopher as  with  the  patriot.  We  gladly 
give  our  praises  to  the  individual,  who, 
by  the  force  of  genius,  and  the  labor  of 
research,  has  enlarged  the  sphere  of 
human  knowledge,  and  pushed  discove- 
ry further  into  the  mysteries  of  nature. 
There  is  not  a  greater  benefactor  to  the 
world  than  he  who  increases  our  ac- 
quaintance with  the  properties  of  mat- 
ter, and  lays  open  to  us  agencies  which 
may  be  successfully  employed  in  the 
occupations  of  life.  We  are  not,  for 
example,  to  regard  the  astronomer  as  a 
man  busied  indeed  with  high  and  bril- 
liant speculation,  but  whose  lofty  calling 
is  altogether  unconnected  with  those  of 
less-gifted  spirits.  None  know  better 
than  many  of  the  present  audience,  that, 
in  his  searchings  over  the  beautiful  and 
spangled  face  of  heaven,  he  is  gathering 
material  fur  the  guide-book  by  which 
the  mariner  shall  make  his  way  across 
the  trackless  waste  of  waters ;  and 
that  thus  are  his  sublime  musings,  and 
his  mystic  calculations,  subservient  to 
every  operation  of  trade,  and  every 
movement  of  commerce.  Truth  is  nc 
isolated  and  uninfluential  thing  :  let  it 
once  be  discovered,  and  a  thousand  con- 
sequences may  be  traced,  ramifying  info 
the  minutest  concerns  and  the  most  or- 
dinary occurrences.  Accordingly,  he 
who  labors  in  the  mine  of  truth,  and 
presents  to  the  world  the  results  of  his 
investigations,  furnishes  his  fellow-men 
with  new  principles  on  which  to  act  in 
the  business  of  life,  and  thus  equips 
them  for  fresh  enterprises,  and  instructs 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


269 


them  how  to  add  to  the  sum  total  of 
happiness.  "We  need  not  exemplify 
this  in  particular  instances.  You  are  all 
aware  how  scientific  research  is  turned 
to  account  in  everyday  life,  and  how 
the  very  lowest  of  our  people  enjoy,  in 
one  way  or  another,  the  fruits  of  disco- 
veries which  are  due  to  the  marvellous 
sagacity,  and  the  repeated  experiments, 
of  those  who  rank  foremost  in  the  annals 
of  philosophy.  And  thus  is  it  evident 
that  the  man  who  is  great  in  science,  is 
great  in  the  power  of  serving  his  fellow- 
men,  and  that  it  is  this  latter  greatness 
which  insures  him  their  applauses.  If 
his  discoveries  were  of  no  benefit  to  the 
many  ;  if  they  opened  no  means  by 
which  enjoyments  might  be  multiplied, 
toil  diminished,  or  dangers  averted  ;  his 
name  would  be  known  only  within  a 
limited  circle,  and  there  would  be  noth- 
ing that  approached  to  a  general  recog- 
nition of  superiority.  But  just  in  pro- 
portion that  his  discoveries  bear  on  the 
universal  happiness,  will  he  be  the  ob- 
ject of  the  universal  approbation  ;  in 
proportion,  that  is,  as  he  has  been  of 
service  to  many,  will  the  many  concede 
to  him  a  high  degree  of  honor;  so  that 
with  philosophy  as  with  patriotism,  the 
achieved  greatness  will  but  illustrate  the 
truth  of  the  saying,  "  he  who  would  be 
chief  amongst  you,  let  him  be  your  ser- 
vant." 

And  if  further  evidence  be  needed, 
that,  in  giving  utterance  to  our  text, 
Christ  was  not  introducing  a  strange 
precept,  but  one  which  is  virtually  acted 
on  by  the  world,  may  we  not  urge  gen- 
erally that  the  men  who  are  most  emi- 
nent in  life,  are  the  men  who  are  most 
literally  the  servants  of  the  public  1  If 
a  man  be  distinguished  as  a  warrior,  and 
if,  by  his  skill  and  bravery,  he  have  been 
enabled  to  secure  victory  to  his  country's 
arms,  and  to  beat  back  invaders  from 
his  country's  shores,  there  is  not  an  in- 
dividual in  the  meanest  cottage  of  the 
laud,  in  whose  service  this  great  leader 
has  not  been  engaged,  or  for  whose  ben- 
efit he  has  not  dared  hardships  and  per- 
illed life.  Nobles  and  princes  may  be 
foremost  in  doing  him  homage,  as  hav- 
ing upheld  the  majesty  of  a  state,  and 
defended  its  throne  against  a  host  of 
assailants.  But  he  fought  equally  for 
the  poor  villager  and  the  industrious 
artisan,  for  the  helpless  infant  and  the 
lonely    widow :    search   the  land,   and 


there  is  not  one  to  whom  he  has  not 
ministered,  not  one  for  whom  he  has 
not  labored  :  and  if  then  his  name  be, 
as  it  ought  to  be,  a  familiar  and  an  hon- 
ored word  in  every  hovel  as  in  every 
palace,  awakening  the  grateful  applause 
of  all  ranks  and  ages,  may  we  not  justly 
declare  of  him,  that  he  has  become  great 
amongst  his  countrymen  through  being 
their  servant  1 

The  individual  again  who  gains  re- 
nown as  a  statesman,  who  serves  his 
country  in  the  senate  as  the  warrior  in 
the  field,  is  the  minister  to  all  classes, 
so  that  the  very  lowest  have  the  profit 
of  his  toils.  You  have  only  to  regard 
him  as  conducting  the  complicated  af- 
fairs of  government,  turning  all  the  en- 
ergies of  a  comprehensive  mind  on 
preserving  the  liberty,  guarding  the 
property,  and  augmenting  the  happi- 
ness, of  a  community,  and  you  cannot 
fail  to  consider  him  as,  in  the  strictest 
sense,  the  servant  of  the  many,  as  em- 
ployed for  their  welfare,  whatever  the 
reward  reaped  in  a  gratified  ambition. 
Yea,  and  it  is  the  being  thus  employed 
which  constitutes  his  greatness  :  for  he 
will  rapidly  lose  his  distinction  and  be 
forced  from  his  eminence  in  public  opin- 
ion, if  it  be  once  made  apparent  that  the 
community  is  not  advantaged  by  his 
services.  Thus  the  position  which  is 
occupied  is  precisely  that  to  which  the 
direction  of  our  text  would  have  natu- 
rally led  :  the  man  stands  amongst  his 
fellows,  exactly  as  we  might  have  ex- 
pected him  to  stand,  had  he  guided 
himself  by  the  maxim,  "  whosoever  will 
be  chief  amongst  them,  let  him  be  their 
servant." 

And  if,  having  traced  in  instances 
drawn  from  the  world  the  identity  of 
the  being  chief  amongst  many  with  the 
being  theii  minister,  we  turn  to  those 
who  have  been  eminent  in  religion,  shall 
we  not  find  that  they,  in  like  manner, 
have  earned  distinction  by  the  services 
which  they  have  rendered  to  others  I 
When  St.  Paul  said  to  the  Corinthians, 
"  Though  I  he  free  from  all  men,  yet 
have  I  made  myself  the  servant  of  all, 
that  I  might  gain  the  more,"  he  deliver- 
ed a  truth  which  did  not  hold  good  of 
himself  alone,  nor  in  that  only  sense 
which  was  then  specially  intended,  but 
which  is  applicable  to  all  Cluistians  in 
proportion  as  they  imitate  the  Apostle's 
devotedness.     If  a  man  be  very  earnest 


270 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


in  his  endeavors  to  lighten  the  distresses, 
and  scatter  the  ignorance,  of  his  fellow- 
men,  expending  time  and  fortune  on 
schemes  of  benevolence,  he  will  become 
widely  known  by  his  philanthropy,  and 
thousands  will  combine  to  yield  him 
applause.  Yet,  undoubtedly,  the  de- 
gree in  which  he  is  singled  out  from 
others,  and  confessed  their  superior, 
corresponds  to  the  degree  in  which  he 
has  made  himself  their  servant :  for  may 
not  he,  who  spends  his  life  in  minister- 
ing to  the  necessitous  and  ignorant,  be 
justly  described  as  the  servant  of  the 
necessitous  and  ignorant  %  As  he  busies 
himself  with  all  the  offices  of  tender- 
ness, devoting  himself  to  the  soothing 
the  wretched  and  enlightening  the  unin- 
structed,  he  is  practically  as  much  given 
up  to  the  service  of  the  suffering  as 
though  bound  to  it  by  the  ties  of  an  im- 
posed obligation — the  only  difference 
being,  that,  in  place  of  the  coldness  and 
reluctance  of  an  hireling,  there  is  the 
warmth  and  alacrity  of  a  most  active 
friendship.  Here,  then,  we  have  the 
instance  of  a  man,  not  merely  making 
himself  the  servant  of  others,  but  the 
servant  of  those  who  have  least  abil- 
ity of  requiting.  Yet  it  is  on  this 
very  account  that  he  becomes  specially 
great.  If  he  attached  himself  to  the 
service  of  the  noble  and  prosperous, 
there  would  rest  suspicion  on  his  mo- 
tives ;  and  we  should  be  inclined  to 
think,  whatever  the  appearance  of  dis- 
interestedness, that  personal  advantage 
was  the  chief  thing  proposed.  And  in 
proportion  as  the  service  wore  the  as- 
pect of  selfishness,  would  the  tribute  of 
applause  be  diminished  :  we  should  be 
less  and  less  disposed  to  allow,  that,  in 
making  himself  a  servant,  he  had  made 
himself  great,  if  we  had  increasing  cause 
to  think  that  his  main  design  was  the 
serving  himself.  But  there  is  no  room 
for  suspicions  of  this  class,  when  the 
exhibition  is  that  of  a  fine  Christian 
philanthropy,  leading  a  man  to  give  his 
assiduity  to  the  sick-beds  of  the  poor, 
or  the  prisons  of  the  criminal.  Accord- 
ingly, when  an  individual  is  manifestly 
and-strongly  actuated  by  this  philanthro- 
py, there  is  an  almost  universal  consent 
in  awarding  him  the  appellation  of  great: 
even  those  who  would  be  amongst  the 
last  to  imitate  are  amongst  the  first  to 
applaud.  There  is  no  name,  for  exam- 
ple, which  is   held  in   deeper  or  more 


general  veneration  than  that  of  Howard ; 
and  Howard  won  his  wreath,  not  in  the 
senate,  and  not  on  the  field,  but  amid 
the  darkness  of  dungeons,  and  the  infec- 
tion of  lazarettoes.  He  grew  great, 
great  in  the  esteem  of  his  own  and  of 
every  following  generation,  through  the 
prodigal  devotion  of  all  he  had,  and  all 
he  was,  to  the  sei'vice  of  the  wretched. 
And  hence  the  principle  announced  in 
our  text  receives  the  strongest  possible 
confirmation  :  a  man  has  not  only  made 
himself  a  servant,  but  has  gone  clown 
into  that  lowest  of  all  positions  which 
it  was  predicted  that  Canaan  should  oc- 
cupy— "  A  servant  of  servants  shall  he 
be  unto  his  brethren" — and  we  find, 
that,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  ser 
vitude,  is  the  unanimity  in  confessing 
him  chief:  then  is  he  not  a  fresh  and 
strong  witness  to  the  worth  of  the  direc- 
tion, "  He  who  would  be  great  amongst 
you,  let  him  be  your  servant  ?  " 

It  would,  however,  be  unpardonable, 
if  we  were  not  for  a  moment  to  consider 
our  text  under  another  and  more  obvi- 
ous point  of  view.  Whatever  the  prac- 
tical agreement  between  Christ's  defi- 
nition of  greatness  and  that  adopted  by 
the  world,  it  is  evident  that  our  Sa- 
vior's design  was  to  recommend  a  virtue 
which  finds  no  favor  with  the  great  mass 
of  men.  The  expression,  "let  him  be 
your  servant,"  or  "  let  him  be  your  min- 
ister," may  be  considered  as  simply  en- 
joining humility,  as  though  it  were 
through  abasing  himself  that  a  man 
might  look  to  be  exalted.  And  it  is 
not  hard  to  discover  why  so  great  worth 
should  be  attached  to  humility,  and  why 
it  should  be  exhibited  as  conducting 
finally  to  distinction.  It  is  a  moral  war- 
fare in  which  we  are  required  to  engage, 
and  the  promised  rewards  are  to  be  giv- 
en to  those  who  master  themselves.  We 
are  placed  here  on  probation,  as  was 
Adam  in  Paradise,  and  our  main  trial, 
like  his,  is  that  of  submission  to  the 
known  will  of  God.  And  there  exists 
in  all  of  us  a  tendency  to  the  seeking 
independence  of  God,  to  the  acting  as 
though  we  were  wiser  than  He,  and 
better  understood  what  would  minister 
to  happiness.  This  tendency  in  what- 
ever way  shown — for  this  will  be  differ- 
ent with  different  constitutions — is  no- 
thing but  the  working  of  pride,  so  that 
to  counteract  it  is  to  acquire  humility. 
And  therefore  it  were  scarcely  too  much 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


271 


to  say,  that,  in  becoming  humble,  we 
become  all  which  is  demanded  by  the 
Gospel ;  for  the  mastery  of  pride,  if 
this  be  its  definition,  must  include  or 
promote  the  subjugation  of  each  passion 
which  opposes  our  entrance  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  "Where,  then,  the 
cause  for  surprise,  if  humility  be  repre- 
sented as  the  high-road  to  greatness  1 
The  truly  humble  man  must  be,  so  far 
as  character  and  achievements  are  con- 
cerned, the  truly  great  man.  I  call  not 
that  man  great  who  has  conquered  a 
nation,  if  he  have  failed,  after  all,  to 
conquer  himself.  True  greatness  must 
be  moral  greatness,  greatness  of  soul, 
that  nobility  of  spirit  which  proves  of  a 
man  that  he  has  measured  his  duration, 
and  proved  himself  indestructible.  And 
I  recognize  this  greatness,  not  necessa- 
rily when  a  man  has  a  world  bowing  at 
his  footstool,  but  when  he  is  himself 
bowing  at  the  footstool  of  God.  The 
rebel  against  lawful  authority  cannot  be 
truly  great  :  the  slave  of  his  own  pas- 
sions cannot  be  truly  great :  the  idolater 
of  his  own  powers  cannot  be  truly  great. 
And  the  proud  man  is  this  rebel,  this 
slave,  this  idolater;  for  pride  spurns  at 
the  divine  dominion,  gives  vigor  to  de- 
praved affections,  and  exaggerates  all 
our  powers.  What,  then,  can  be  more 
accurate  than  that  pride  destroys  the 
chief  elements  of  which  a  great  charac- 
ter is  compounded,  so  that  it  must  be  to 
direct  a  man  in  the  way  to  eminence,  to 
prescribe  that  he  be  "  clothed  with  hu- 
mility ]  "  We  know  that  when  Christ 
shall  re-appear,  it  will  be  to  erect  that 
kingdom  which  his  Apostles  expected, 
and  to  distribute  the  rewards  which  have 
been  promised  from  the  first  to  those 
"  faithful  unto  death."  Who  shall  gain 
high  rank  in  this  kingdom  1  on  whom 
shall  be  bestowed  the  most  glorious  of 
the  rewards  ]  We  may  dare  to  be  sure 
that  the  most  humble  will  be  the  most 
exalted.  They  have  gone  furthest  in 
Christian  attainment;  for  humility  is 
not  so  much  a  single  element  in  a  right- 
eous man's  character,  as  that  which 
pervades  every  other,  and  gives  it,  at 
the  same  time,  fixedness  and  increase. 
They  must  be  the  men  of  the  firmest 
faith,  and  the  warmest  love,  and  the 
most  soaring  hope  ;  the  men  who  have 
acquired  the  closest  conformity  to  the 
image  of  the  Mediator,  seeing  that  this 
mind  is  most  largely  in  them  which  was 


also  in  Christ,  who  humbled  Himself, 
and,  though  rich,  for  our  sakes  became 
poor.  They,  then,  must  be  greatest  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Theirs  must 
be  the  loftiest  throne,  and  theirs  the 
noblest  heritage.  And  I  seem  to  hear 
nothing  more  than  a  declaration,  that 
the  recompences  of  eternity  will  be  dealt 
out  with  the  very  nicest  regard  to  the 
progress  which  men  have  made  in  god- 
liness, when  I  hear  Christ  saying  to  his 
disciples,  emulous  of  distinction  in  his 
kingdom,  "  Whosoever  will  be  great 
amongst  you,  let  him  be  your  minister; 
and  whosoever  will  be  chief  amongst 
you,  let  him  be  your  servant." 

We  would  now,  however,  recur  to 
our  first  view  of  the  maxim  of  our  text, 
and  again  urge  that  he  who  would  lay 
himself  out  for  eminence,  must  lay  him- 
self out  for  usefulness.  Our  argument 
is,  that,  however  various  and  inconsistent 
might  be  the  definitions  of  greatness, 
which  would  be  furnished  if  you  asked 
in  different  quarters,  there  is  nothing 
needed  but  the  examination  of  the  cases 
in  which  greatness  is  acknowledged, 
and  fresh  evidence  will  be  gained  that 
the  chief  amongst  many  must  be  virtually 
their  minister.  May  1  not,  for  example, 
declare  with  perfect  truth  of  the  distin- 
guished body  which  I  am  now  appointed 
to  address,  that  they  are  great  through 
being  useful  1  The  servants  of  the 
very  sailor-boy,  who,  after  long  voyag- 
ing, marks  with  rapture  the  distant  light 
which  your  carefulness  has  kindled  to 
guide  him  on  his  way  ;  the  ministers  to 
the  poorest  wanderer  on  those  narrow 
seas  which  gird  about  our  island,  who, 
without  the  aids  which  your  pilots  sup- 
ply, would  speedily  perish  on  the  rock 
or  the  quicksand  ;  you  certainly,  if  great 
as  a  corporation,  are  great  through  the 
method  prescribed  by  our  text.  It  is  not 
because  you  may  number  amongst  you 
the  titled  of  the  land  ;  it  is  not  because 
vou  may  be  enrolled  under  the  illustri- 
ous alike  in  battle  and  in  council — and 
where  should  victory  more  fitly  preside 
than  over  commerce,  to  whose  enter- 
prises it  opened  land  and  sea  \ — it  is  be- 
cause you  are  serviceable  to  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands,  serviceable  to 
the  mariners  whose  lives  you  protect, 
serviceable  to  the  merchants  whose  pro- 
perty you  guard,  serviceable  to  the  em- 
pire to  all  whose  intricate  avenues  you 
may  be  said  to  furnish  the  clue,  that  so 


272 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


lofty  a  place  is  given  you  in  public  es- 
teem ;  your  usefulness  has  won  for  you 
that  greatness  which  makes  it  an  honor- 
able thing  even  for  the  honored  to  be 
incorporated  with  you ;  so  that  their 
presence  is  the  index  rather  than  the 
cause  of  your  dignity  ;  even  as  the  stars 
and  orders  on  a  man  of  high  achieve- 
ment do  not  constitute,  but  proclaim 
him  the  benefactor  of  a  nation.  And  if 
indeed  it  be  thus  your  usefulness  to 
which  you  owe  your  greatness,  it  must 
be  fitting  that  we  impress  on  you  how 
thoroughly  it  is  your  interest,  as  well  as 
your  duty,  to  spare  no  pains  in  perfect- 
ing whatsoever  may  facilitate  the  navi- 
gation of  our  seas ;  each  lighthouse 
which  diminishes  shipwreck  is  as  a  fresh 
diamond  in  your  coronet ;  and  every 
improved  chart  is  like  a  new  patent  of 
nobility.  It  is,  moreover,  worth  ob- 
serving, that  the  greatness  which  is  thus 
derived  from  usefulness,  may  be  aug- 
mented or  decreased  by  the  meanest  of 
those  whom  you  employ  :  the  ignorance 
or  intemperance  of  any  one  of  your 
pilots  may  bring  disgrace  upon  your- 
selves, by  bringing  ruin  upon  numbers 
who  have  been  virtually  committed  to 
your  guardianship;  and  need  we  then 
add,  that  it  would  be  to  cease  to  be  great, 
and  to  become  even  despicable,  if  ever 
private  interest  were  suffered  to  advance 
incompetence,  or  shield  drunkenness  ] 
A  high  trust  would  be  betrayed,  if  most 
rigid  inquiries  were  not  instituted  into 
the  skill  and  character  of  every  one 
whom  you  empower  to  take  charge  of 
our  vessels  :  but  if,  after  such  inquiries, 
the  pilots  prove  deficient  in  either  know- 
ledge or  sobriety,  in  acquaintance  with 
the  waters  through  which  they  profess 
to  steer,  or  in  that  steadiness  which  can 
alone  make  this  acquaintance  of  use, 
you  indeed  are  clear ;  but  the  pilots, 
and  if  any  be  present,  let  them  hear, 
and  remember,  and  report  to  their  fel- 
lows, the  pilots  virtually  incur  the  guilt 
of  robbers,  by  destroying  property,  and 
of  murderers,  by  destroying  life. 

But  shall  we  be  exceeding  the  bounds 
of  our  office,  if,  whilst  treating  of  great- 
ness as  resulting  from  usefulness,  and 
illustrating  by  the  case  of  a  corporation 
which  has  grown  eminent  through  its 
care  of  our  shipping,  we  point  out  the 
duty  of  making  commerce  subservient 
to  the  spread  of  Christianity,  and  the 
majesty  which  it  would  acquire  through 


being  thus  employed  1  Nay,  the  very 
name  which  you  bear  seems  to  pledge 
you  to  the  keeping  other  interests  in 
view,  besides  those  which  more  imme- 
diately engage  your  attention.  Why 
have  you  drawn  your  designation  from 
the  great  mystery  of  the  Godhead,  if 
not  to  give  a  holy  character  to  the  com- 
pass and  rudder  over,  which  you  pre- 
side, and  to  express,  as  it  were,  your 
belief  that  seas  should  be  navigated 
under  the  loftiest  auspice,  and  for  the 
most  sacred  ends  1  That  whatsoever 
concerns  our  pilotage  is  committed  to  a 
body,  whose  title  proclaims  the  doctrine 
which  especially  distinguishes  revealed 
religion  from  natural,  might  almost  be 
interpreted  into  a  national  declaration, 
that  trade  should  be  instrumental  to  the 
diffusing  the  Gospel.  But  we  dare  not 
think  that  such  a  declaration  has  been 
made  good  in  our  practice.  There  has 
never  indeed  been  a  country  so  con- 
nected as  our  own  with  every  district  of 
the  earth.  England  has  been  mistress 
of  the  seas ;  everywhere  has  her  flag 
floated,  and  everywhere  commanded 
respect.  Yet  we  have  not  made  com- 
merce tributary  to  Christianity  ;  we 
have  not  practically  regarded  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  ocean  as  given  us  that  we 
might  be  enabled  to  disseminate  truth. 
Fleet  after  fleet  has  left  our  shores;  the 
east,  and  west,  and  north,  and  south, 
have  all  been  steered  for  by  our  adven- 
turous ships  :  but  we  have  swept  into 
our  harbors  the  riches  and  luxuries  of 
the  globe,  without  leaving  in  exchange 
the  precious  seed  of  God's  word.  And 
for  this  we  may  yet  expect  the  divine 
retribution.  Had  we  thoroughly  blend- 
ed the  characters  of  a  Christian  and  com- 
mercial community,  the  merchants  of 
this  country  might  have  been,  by  God's 
help,  the  evangelizers  of  the  earth  ;  and 
then  could  no  fears  have  been  felt  as  to 
the  continuance  of  prosperity  ;  our 
chieftaincy  would  have  been,  in  the 
most  splendid  sense,  the  chieftaincy  of 
usefulness,  and  we  may  be  confident 
that  the  Almighty  would  have  given  it 
permanence.  Whereas  now  it  is  impos- 
sible to  be  free  from  apprehension,  that 
this  country  has  yet  to  be  called  to  ac- 
count for  the  not  having  actually,  what- 
ever it  may  have  done  nominally,  con- 
secrated its  navigation  to  the  ever- 
blessed  Trinity.  When  we  look  on 
that  finest  spectacle  which  our  metro- 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  BEING  USEFUL. 


273 


polis  presents — and  this  spectacle  is  not 
its  streets,  and  not  its  parks,  and  not  its 
palaces;  but  the  forest  of  masts  which 
rise  for  mile  upon  mile  from  its  noble 
river, — and  when  we  remember  how, 
with  Christianity  at  the  helm  of  the 
swarming  vessels,  the  glorious  news  of 
redemption  might  be  rapidly  borne  over 
the  habitable  globe;  it  is  not  easy  to 
repress  all  foreboding,  to  keep  from  an- 
ticipating a  time  when  God  may  visit 
upon  us  the  not  having  used  in  his  cause 
the  vast  powers  derived  from  our  traffic, 
and  when  this  nation  shall  cease  to  be 
great  amongst  kingdoms,  through  hav- 
ing failed  to  be  their  servant,  "  minis- 
tering the  Gospel  of  God."  At  least, 
let  it  be  remembered  by  those  who 
have  in  any  way  an  influence  on  the 
commerce  of  the  country,  that  God 
has  given  spiritual  blessings  to  be  diffu- 
sed as  well  as  enjoyed  ;  and  that  it  can- 
not be  in  his  sight  an  indifferent  thing, 
whether  we  keep  them  to  ourselves,  or 
act  as  stewards  and  communicate  to 
others.  Thousands  on  every  side  are 
perishing,  according  to  the  Scriptural 
expression,  "  for  lack  of  knowledge  :" 
what  then  shall  be  said  of  those,  who, 
with  the  Bible  in  their  hands,  and  with 
unrivalled  facilities  for  the  diffusion, 
take  no  pains  to  "  hold  forth  the  word 
of  life,"  if  not  that  they  are  virtually  as 
guilty  as  though  a  lighthouse  had  been 
given  into  their  charge,  and  then,  on 
some  tremendous  night,  when  sea  and 
sky  mingled  in  fierce  confusion,  they  had 
neglected  to  kindle  the  flame,  and  thus 
left  a  navy  to  be  broken  into  shreds  ] 

But  we  would  now  turn  for  a  few 
moments,  in  conclusion,  to  that  touch- 
ing reference  to  his  own  case  by  which 
Christ  illustrates  the  rule  which  we  have 
been  engaged  in  examining.  "  Even 
as  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  min- 
istered unto,  but  to  minister."  Who 
did  not  feel,  whilst  we  were  gathering 
illustrations  from  warriors,  and  states- 
men, and  philosophers,  and  philanthro- 
pists, that  we  might  have  gone  to  a 
higher  source,  and  have  given  one  ex- 
ample, including,  yet  immeasurably 
surpassing,  every  other?  It  is  true 
that  the  most  eminent  amongst  men 
are  their  servants  ;  for  eminence  results 
from  usefulness,  and  usefulness  from 
the  dedication  of  energies  to  the  service 
of  others.  But  where  is  there  an  instance 
of  this  dedication  of  energies,  which  can 
vol.  ii.  35 


for  a  moment  be  compared  with  that 
presented  by  the  history  of  Jesus  1  How 
true,  and  how  affecting,  was  the  lan- 
guage which  He  used,  when  his  disci- 
ples were  contending  as  to  who  should 
be  reckoned  greatest,  "  Whether  is 
greater,  he  that  sitteth  at  meat  or  he  that 
serveth]  is  not  he  that  sitteth  at  meat? 
but  I  am  among  you  as  he  that  serveth." 
It  was  for  the  very  meanest,  as  well  as 
for  the  noblest  of  the  children  of  men, 
that  the  Redeemer  engaged  in  that 
stern  work  which  could  be  accomplish- 
ed only  through  sorrow  and  death. 
Which  of  us  is  there  who  can  say  that 
this  Reedeemer  did  not  perform  on  his 
behalf  the  most  servile  of  offices,  stoop- 
ing to  every  kind  of  indignity,  enduring 
every  form  of  hardship,  and  undertaking 
every  species  of  toil]  But  if  Christ 
thus  made  Himself  servant  to  the  human 
race,  it  is  this  very  fact  which  is  to  draw 
to  Him  finally  universal  homage.  Had 
He  not  been  their  servant,  He  could  not 
have  been  their  Redeemer;  and,  if  not 
their  Redeemer,  then  at  his  name  would 
not  every  knee  have  bowed,  "  of  things 
in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and 
things  under  the  earth."  Thus  He 
illustrates  his  own  precept  :  He  be- 
came great  through  redeeming;  but 
since  He  redeemed  through  making 
Himself  the  minister  to  a  lost  world, 
He  became  great  through  becoming  a 
servant.  Can  I  then  need  other  proof 
of  the  worth  of  the  direction  furnished 
by  our  text]  I  "consider  him  who 
endured  such  contradiction  of  sinners 
against  himself,"  and  I  find  that  the 
office  which  He  undertook  was  one  of 
humiliation,  an  office  which  can  be  no 
better  defined,  whatever  its  awfulness 
and  arduousness,  than  as  that  of  a  ser- 
vant; for  it  was  an  office  of  unbounded 
toil  that  a  bm-dened  world  might  be 
lightened,  and  of  continued  suffering 
that  a  stricken  world  might  have  peace. 
And  when  1  further  observe  that  all 
which  is  most  sublime  in  exaltation  was 
awarded  to  "  the  man  Christ  Jesus,"  in 
recompense  of  his  discharging  this  office, 
do  1  not  learn,  that  if  I  would  stand  high 
in  his  kingdom,  I  must  imitate  Him  in 
lowliness,  and  in  devotion  to  the  inter- 
ests of  all  classes  of  my  fellow-men  ] 

There  can  then  be  no  dispute  as  to  the 
secret  of  true  greatness  :  it  only  remains, 
that,  having  the  rule,  we  adopt  it  in  our 
practice.     Earthly  greatness,  in  the  or- 


274 


CHRISTIANITY  THE   GUARDIAN  OP  HUMAN  LIFE. 


dinary  sense,  is  attainable  but  by  few  : 
heavenly  is  within  reach  of  all,  who,  as 
ihe  servants  of  Clod,  make  themselves 
the  servants  of  man.  And  a  day  is  ap- 
proaching when  the  important  question 
will  be,  not  whether  we  have  stood  high 
in  the  present  world,  but  whether  we 
have  prepared  ourselves  for  the  next. 
The  voyage  of  life  is  drawing  rapidly 
to  a  close  ;  and  on  that  shore,  to  which 
all  are  hastening,  must  the  illustrious 
stand  with  the  mean,  the  conqueror  with 
the  conquered,  the  wise  with  the  illiterate, 
to  be  "judged  according  to  their  works." 
It  is  our  own  fault,  if  the  voyage  terminate 
disastrously.  What  ]  is  there  no  bea- 
con, lit  up  for  those  who  toss  on  dark- 
ened waters  ]  is  there  no  pilot  to  steer 
the  laboring  vessel  ]  is  there  no  anchor 
to  hold  her  fast  amid  the  drivings  of  the 


storm  ]  Christ  hath  come  "  a  light  to 
lighten  the  Gentiles ;"  and  his  cross, 
like  a  moral  pharos,  directs  to  immor- 
tality. There  hath  descended  the  pro- 
mised Comforter,  to  guide  the  wander- 
ing to- everlasting  rest.  There  is  provi- 
sion in  the  Gospel  for  a  hope  which 
"  maketh  not  ashamed,"  "  which  hope 
we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul  both 
sure  and  steadfast." 

Then  we  have  but  to  use  the  means, 
and  appropriate  the  blessings,  proffered 
by  the  Bible,  and  when  the  last  tempest 
beats  on  this  creation,  and  the  proud 
and  the  sensual  and  the  selfish  go  down 
in  one  wild  wreck,  we  shall  be  found  in 
"the  haven  where  we  would  be;"  on 
that  "sea  of  glass  like  unto  crystal," 
which  St.  John  saw  spreading  before  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb 


SERMON   II 


CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN  OP  HUMAN  LIFE. 


The  excellency  of  knowledge  is,  that  wisdom  giveth  life  to  them  that  have  it." — Ecclesiastes  vii.  12. 


It  will  readily  be  admitted,  that  we 
interpret  this  passage  consistently  with 
the  other  writings  of  Solomon,  if  we 
understand  by  knowledge,  knowledge 
of  God,  and  by  wisdom,  "  the  wisdom 
that  is  from  above."  It  will  also  be 
allowed,  that  we  do  not  propose  any 
strained  application  of  the  text,  if  we 
understand  by  knowledge  and  wisdom 
what  those  terms  represent  under  the 
Christian  dispensation,  as  distinguished 
from  that  beneath  which  Solomon  lived. 
If  these  preliminaries  be  conceded,  the 
text  appears  specially  applicable  to  the 
:nt  occasion.     For  it  may  be  said 


*  Preached  before  the  corporation  of  Trinity 
House,  on  Trinity  Monday,  1840. 


to  claim,  as  one  great  characteristic  of 
the  Christian  religion,  the  being  the 
giver  or  guardian  of  human  life  :  what 
then  can  be  more  appropriate  to  the 
assembling  of  an  illustrious  corporation, 
which,  bearing  on  its  banner  the  great 
mystery  of  the  Godhead,  sets  itself  to 
preserve  thousands  who  could  scarcely 
escape  death,  were  it  not  assiduous  in 
firing  the  beacon  and  fixing  the  buoy  I 
Such,  then,  is  the  point  of  view  under 
which  we  have  to  display  Christianity. 
Christianity  is  the  dispenser  of  life  to  the 
human  body  and  soul.  Let  other  know- 
ledge vaunt  itself  on  this  or  that  excel- 
lency :  we  claim  for  "  the  wisdom  that 
is  from  above,"  the  giving  "life  to  them 
that  have  it." 


CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


275 


Now  we  may  unhesitatingly  charge 
upon  Heathenism,  even  it"  you  keep  out 
of  sight  its  debasing  effect  upon  morals, 
and  think  of*  it  only  as  a  system  of  reli- 
gious ceremonies  and  observances,  the 
having  a  direct  tendency  to  the  destroy- 
ing men's  lives.  It  commonly  repre- 
sents the  Deity  as  delighting  in  the  suf- 
ferings of  his  creatures,  and  therefore 
seeks  to  propitiate  him  through  slaugh- 
ter. It  has  not  been  merely  amongst 
the  more  savage  of  Pagans,  but  also 
amongst  those  who  have  advanced  far 
in  civilization,  that  the  custom  has  pre- 
vailed of  offering  human  sacrifices. 
Writers  the  best  qualified  by  learned 
research  for  delivering  an  opinion,  assert 
that  there  is  no  nation  mentioned  in 
history  whom  we  cannot  reproach  with 
having  shed  the  blood  of  its  citizens,  in 
order  to  appease  the  Divinity  when  he 
appeared  angry,  or  to  rouse  him  when 
indolent.  The  Grecians  made  great 
progress  in  sciences  and  arts ;  yet  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  a  rule  with 
each  of  their  states,  to  sacrifice  men 
before  they  marched  against  an  enemy. 
The  Romans,  who  emulated  the  Gre- 
cians in  civilization,  appear  not  to  have 
been  behind  them  in  the  cruelties  of 
their  religion  ;  even  so  late  as  in  the 
reign  of  Trajan,  men  and  women  were 
slain  at  the  shrine  of  some  one  of  their 
deities.  As  to  the  heathenism  of  less 
refined  states,  it  would  be  easy  to  affix 
to  it  a  yet  bloodier  character:  nothing, 
for  example,  could  well  exceed  the  mas- 
sacres, connected  with  religious  rites, 
which  appear  to  have  been  common 
among  the  nations  of  America  :  the  an- 
nual sacrifices  of  the  Mexicans  required 
many  thousands  of  victims,  and  in  Peru 
two  hundred  children  were  devoted 
for  the  health  of  the  sovereign.  What 
a  frightful  destruction  of  life !  But 
Christianity  owns  only  one  human  sacri- 
fice, and,  through  that  one,  death  itself 
was  abolished*. 

But  we  should  vastly  underrate  the 
influence  of  Christianity  in  saving  hu- 
man life,  were  we  merely  to  compute 
from  the  abolition  of  the  destructive 
rites  of  heathenism.  The  influence  has 
been  exerted  in  indirect  modes  yet  more 
than  in  direct.  We  need  hardly  tell  you 
that  Christianity  has  proved  the  great 
civilizer  of  nations,  heightening  the 
morals,  and  enlarging  the  charities  of 
communities,  so  that,  beneath  its  righte- 


ous sceptre,  animosities  have  subsided, 
and  happiness  has  been  increasingly  dif- 
fused. And  whilst  it  has  thus,  in  the 
general,  polished  and  compacted  socie- 
ty, it  has  spread,  in  a  hundred  ways,  a 
shield  over  human  life.  It  has  gradual- 
ly substituted  mild  for  sanguinary  laws, 
teaching  rulers  that  the  cases  must  be 
rare  which  justify  the  punishing  with 
death.  If  it  have  not  yet  exterminated 
war,  it  has  greatly  softened  its  horrors. 
It  has  made  warriors — who  can  with- 
hold his  admiration  1 — who  never  sul- 
lied victory  by  cruelty,  who  never  wan- 
tonly caused  a  tear,  who  were  always 
as  eager  to  protect  the  unoffending  as 
able  to  subdue  the  opposing,  and  who 
never  vanquished  without  studying  to 
make  defeat  a  blessing  to  the  conquered. 

And  what  but  Christianity,  giving  sa- 
credness  to  human  life,  ever  taught  men 
to  erect  asylums  for  the  sick  and  the 
aged]  Hospitals  and  infirmaries  are 
among  the  most  splendid  of  the  trophies 
of  Christianity.  They  were  never  found 
in  heathen  times  and  lands.  Monarchs 
never  reared  them,  though  half  a  world 
stood  ready  to  execute  their  bidding. 
Warriors  never  planned  them,  though  the 
carnage  which  they  wrought  might  have 
suggested  their  necessity.  Philosophers 
never  demanded  them,  though  the  vir- 
tue which  they  praised  was  but  a  name 
without  compassion.  But  there  came 
(>  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with 
grief,"  and  at  his  word,  the  earth  was 
covered  with  homes  for  the  afflicted. 

Add  to  this  the  mighty  advancings 
which  have  been  made  under  the  fos- 
tering sway  of  Christianity  in  every  de- 
partment of  science.  It  matters  not 
what  may  be  the  connection  between 
the  two  ;  the  fact  is,  that  knowledge  of 
every  kind  has  walked  side  by  side  with 
the  religion  of  Christ,  as  though,  in  un- 
chaining the  human  spirit,  and  pointing 
it  heavenwards,  this  religion  gave  en- 
largement to  the  mind,  and  strengthened 
it  for  discovery.  And  how  wonderfully, 
in  promoting  knowledge,  has  Christian- 
ity preserved  life.  The  study  of  the 
body,  of  its  structure  and  diseases  ;  ac- 
quaintance with  the  properties  of  mine- 
rals and  plants;  skill  in  detecting  the 
sources  of  pain,  and  applying  remedies 
or  assuagements— all  this  would  appear 
peculiar,  in  a  great  degree,  to  Onristian 
nations ;  as  if  there  could  be  only  incon- 
siderable progress  in   medical  science, 


276 


CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN   OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


whilst  a  land  were  not  trodden  by  the 
alone  Physician  of  the  Soul. 

And  need  we  point  out  to  such  an 
assembly  as  the  present — themselves 
the  best  witnesses — how  knowledge  of 
other  kinds,  cherished  by  Christianity, 
has  subserved  the  preservation  of  life  1 
Witness  astronomy,  watching  the  marin- 
er, lest  he  be  bewildered  on  the  waters. 
Witness  chemistry,  directing  the  miner, 
that  he  perish  not  by  subterranean  fires. 
Witness  geography,  with  its  maps  and 
charts,  informing  the  traveller  of  dan- 
gers, and  pointing  him  to  safety.  Wit- 
ness architecture,  rearing  the  lighthouse 
on  rocks,  where  there  seemed  no  foun- 
dation for  structures  which  might  brave 
the  wild  storm,  and  thus  warning  away 
navies  which  must  otherwise  have  per- 
ished. Witness  machinery,  providing 
for  the  poorest,  what  once  the  wealthy 
alone  could  obtain,  the  means  of  guard- 
ing against  inclement  seasons,  and  thus 
preserving  health  when  most  rudely 
threatened.  We  assert,  that  for  the 
science,  thus  continually  and  powerful- 
ly exerted  on  the  saving  human  life,  we 
are  practically  indebted,  through  one 
cause  or  another,  to  the  Christian  reli- 
gion. It  is  science  which  had  made 
little  or  no  way  till  this  religion  gained 
the  ascendancy,  which  is  still  compara- 
tively a  stranger  where  this  religion  has 
no  footing ;  and  if  the  religion  and  the 
science  always  go  hand  in  hand,  Ave  may 
assume,  without  entering  on  lengthened 
demonstration,  that  they  are  virtually 
connected  as  cause  and  effect. 

But  who,  after  this  hurried  survey  of 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  can  hesi- 
tate as  to  the  truth  of  that  assertion  of 
Solomon  which  is  under  review.  If 
ever  there  were  an  assertion,  proof  of 
which  seemed  to  start  from  history,  from 
every  thing  above,  from  every  thing 
around  us,  it  is  that  which  ascribes  to 
Christianity  the  preserving  human  life. 
Yes,  Christianity,  if  we  may  personify 
thee  at  all,  we  would  personify  thee  as 
the  guardian,  the  giver  of  life.  Thou 
hast  cut  down  the  groves,  and  levelled 
the  temples,  where  a  misinformed  priest- 
hood slew  their  fellow-men.  Thou  hast 
covered  lands  with  receptacles  for  the 
suffering,  who  must  otherwise  die  for 
want  of  succor.  Thou  hast  placed  mer- 
cy on  the  judgment-seat ;  yea,  taught  it 
to  find  a  home  amid  scenes  of  bloodshed, 
so  that  multitudes  live,  who,  without  thy 


mild  sway,  would  be  indiscriminately 
slaughtered.  Thou  hast  led  the  way  to 
medicinal  springs,  and  instructed  us  to 
arrest  the  ravages  of  disease.  Thine  is 
the  marshalling  of  the  rich  troop  of  stars 
on  the  guide-book  of  the  mariner,  that 
he  may  be  safe  in  his  wanderings.  Thou 
hast  lit  the  lamp  for  the  adventurous,  as 
they  penetrate  the  depths  of  the  earth. 
Thine  is  the  beacon  against  shipwreck; 
thine  the  mechanism  for  multiplying  ihe 
necessaries  and  comforts  of  life;  thine 
the  legislation  which  takes  note  of  the 
destitute  ;  thine  the  philanthropy  which 
leads  numbers  to  be  on  the  watch  for 
the  suffering;  thine  the  skill  which  oft- 
en restores  those  in  whom  life  seems 
extinct.  O  then,  we  may  well  address 
thee  as  the  preserver  of  human  life,  and 
feel  that  to  thee  alone  belong  the  beau- 
tiful words,  "The  excellency  of  knowl 
edge  is,  that  wisdom  giveth  life  to  them 
that  have  it." 

But  it  were  greatly  to  wrong  Christi 
anity  as  a  giver  of  life,  were  we  to  con- 
fine our  illustrations  to  the  bodies,  in 
place  of  extending  them  to  the  souls  of 
men.  We  have  higher  evidence  than 
any  yet  assigned,  that  Christianity  is 
the  only  wisdom  which  will  answer  the 
description  contained  in  our  text.  It 
may  be  said  of  the  world,  in  every  pe- 
riod of  its  history,  "  The  world  by  wis- 
dom knew  not  God."  And  they  who 
have  been  most  successful  in  scientific 
inquiry,  have  not  only  been  often  desti- 
tute of  acquaintance  with  God,  but  de- 
prived of  it  through  the  very  knowledge 
for  which  they  have  labored,  and  of 
which  they  have  been  proud.  There 
is  a  tendency  in  earthly  science,  to  the 
encouraging  that  haughtiness  of  spirit 
which  is  directly  opposed  to  religion  : 
they  who  are  distinguished  by  its  attain- 
ments, are  the  most  likely  to  be  stagger- 
ed by  the  direction  of  the  Apostle,  "  If 
any  man  among  you  seemeth  to  be  wise 
in  this  vorld,  let  him  become  a  fool,  that 
he  may  be  wise."  But,  without  consid- 
ering human  wisdom  as  opposed  to  the 
acquisition  of  heavenly,  what  is  it  ii  it- 
self, as  to  the  power  of  giving  life,  when 
you  regard  man  as  an  accountable  being, 
and  examine  how  he  may  stand  at  the 
tribunal  of  God  ?  Will  philosophy  give 
any  information  as  to  the  pardon  of  sin  1 
Will  reason  open  up  any  method  through 
which  God  can  be  "just  and  the  justi- 
fierV'     Can  natural  theology  carry  us 


CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN  OF   HUMAN  LIFE. 


277 


beyond  the  discovery  of  our  hopeless 
condition  1  Can  it  suggest  a  remedy  ] 
rather,  is  not  its  highest  achievement, 
the  proving  us  exposed  to  the  wrath  of 
the  Almighty,  the  showing  us  that  the 
attributes  of  God  pledge  Him  to  take 
vengeance  on  the  sinful,  and  that  the 
disorganization,  too  visible  throughout 
this  creation,  is  evidence  that  the  ven- 
geance is  already  let  loose  1 

Our  liability  to  punishment  is  disco- 
verable by  human  wisdom,  but  the  pos- 
sibility of  our  escaping  it  not  without 
heavenly  ;  and  hence  there  is  no  life- 
giving  power  in  the  former.  It  is  noth- 
ing to  me,  ye  men  of  science,  that  ye  are 
ready  to  instruct  me  in  the  motions  of 
stars,  that  ye  will  take  me  with  you  in- 
to the  laboratories  of  nature,  and  there 
show  me  the  processes  of  her  mysterious 
chemistry.  I  dread  to  look  upon  the 
stars ;  for  I  feel  that  I  have  made  their 
architect  mine  enemy  :  I  shrink  from 
the  wonders  of  nature;  for  I  know  that 
I  have  provoked  the  mighty  being  who 
controls  them.  It  is  nothing,  that  ye 
offer  to  instruct  me  in  the  relations  of 
substances  ;  in  the  connexion  of  cause 
and  effect ;  in  the  events  of  other  days  ; 
in  the  principles  of  jurisprudence.  1  am 
a  dying  creature,  yet  an  immortal ;  sin- 
ful, and  nevertheless  accountable  ;  and 
if  ye  cannot  tell  me  how  I  may  prepare 
for  futurity,  how  meet  death  with  com- 
posure, and  enter  eternity  with  hope, 
miserable  instructors  are  ye  all  !  And 
ye  cannot  tell  me  :  I  must  turn  to  a 
higher  teacher,  and  seek  wisdom  at  a 
purer  source.  "  Blessed  be  the  God 
and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ," 
He  hath  revealed  a  method  of  reconcil- 
iation, and  offers  his  Spirit  to  assist  us 
in  the  availing  ourselves  of  what  He 
hath  done  for  the  world.  Sunk  by  na- 
ture in  a  death  of  "  trespasses  and  sins," 
we  are  both  invited  and  enabled  to 
"  walk  in  newuess  of  life." 

For  the  wisdom  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
continually  imparts  to  such  as  submit 
to  his  influence,  is,  from  first  to  last,  a 
quickening,  vivifying  thing.  It  makes 
the  believer  alive,  in  the  sense  of  being 
energetic  for  God  and  for  truth ;  alive, 
as  feeling  himself  immortal ;  alive,  as 
having  thrown  off  the  bondage  of  cor- 
ruption ;  alive,  as  knowing  himself 
"  begotten  again  "  "  to  an  inheritance 
that  fadeth  not  away."  "  I  live,"  said 
the  great  Apostle,  "  yet  not  I,  but  Christ 


liveth  in  me."  And  life  indeed  it  is, 
when  a  man  is  made  "  wise  unto  salva- 
tion ;  "  when,  having  been  brought  to 
a  consciousness  pf  his  state  Its  a  rebel 
against  God,  he  has  committed  his  cause 
unto  Christ,  "  who  was  delivered  for  our 
offences,  and  was  raised  again  for  our 
justification."  It  is  not  life,  it  deserves 
not  the  name,  merely  to  have  power  of 
moving  to  and  fro  on  this  earth,  behold- 
ing the  light,  and  drinking  in  the  air. 
It  may  be  life  to  the  brute,  but  not  to 
man — man  who  is  deathless,  man  who 
belongs  to  two  worlds  ;  the  citizen  of 
immensity,  the  heir  of  Eternity.  But  it 
is  life  to  spend  the  few  years  of  earthly 
pilgrimage  in  the  full  hope  and  certain 
expectation  of  everlasting  blessedness  ; 
to  be  able  to  regard  sin  as  a  forgiven 
thing,  and  death  as  abolished  ;  to  anti- 
cipate the  future  with  its  glories,  the 
judgment  with  its  terrors,  and  to  know 
assuredly  that  He  who  shall  sit  upon 
the  throne,  and  gather  all  nations  before 
Him,  reserves  for  us  a  place  in  those 
"  many  mansions  "  which  He  reared  and 
opened  through  his  great  work  of  medi- 
ation. It  is  life  to  live  for  eternity ;  it 
is  life  to  live  for  God  ;  it  is  life  to  have 
fellowship  with  what  the  eye  hath  not 
seen  and  the  ear  hath  not  heard.  And 
there  is  not  one  amongst  us  who  may 
not  thus  live.  There  is  needed  only 
that,  renouncing  all  wisdom  of  our  own, 
we  come  unto  God  to  be  taught,  and  we 
shall  receive  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  that 
Spirit  which  is  breath  to  the  soul,  quick- 
ening it  from  the  death  of  nature,  and 
causing  its  torpid  energies  and  pervert- 
ed affections  to  rise  to  their  due  use,  and 
fix  on  their  due  end.  We  cannot  find 
this  life-giving  wisdom  in  the  schools  of 
the  learned ;  we  must  not  seek  it  through 
the  workings  of  reason,  nor  suppose  it 
taught  by  the  books  of  philosophy.  But 
if  we  will  come,  as  little  children,  to  the 
Bible,  and  suffer  its  statements  to  guide 
us  to  the  Cross,  assuredly  we  shall  ac- 
quire what  alone  should  be  called 
knowledge — knowledge,  if  not  of  the 
stars,  yet  of  Him  who  made  the  stars; 
knowledge,  if  not  of  what  is  perishable, 
of  that  which  is  imperishable ;  know- 
ledge of  self;  knowledge  of  sin,  of  its 
guilt,  and  its  pardon ;  we  shall  know 
ourselves  lost  without  Christ,  but  saved, 
with  an  everlasting  salvation,  through 
his  precious  blood  and  perfect  right- 
eousness. 


278 


CHRISTIANITY  THE  GUARDIAN  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


And  the  excellency  of  this  knowledge 
is,  that,  having  it,  you  will  have  life. 
You  cannot  have  it,  except  in  the  heart; 
for  no  man  knows  Christ,  who  knows 
Him  only  with  the  head.  And  having 
this  knowledge  in  the  heart,  you  have 
renewal  of  the  heart ;  and  with  renewal 
of  the  heart,  forgiveness  of  sin,  and  the 
earnests  of  immortality.  Are  we  not 
now,  therefore,  able  to  vindicate  in  all 
its  extent  the  assertion  of  our  text  ]  In 
the  former  part  of  the  verse,  the  wise 
man  had  allowed  that  "  wisdom  is  a 
defence,  and  money  is  a  defence." 
Money  is  a  defence  to  the  man  of 
wealth  ;  it  shields  him  against  a  hun- 
dred evils  which  beat  upon  the  poor. 
Wisdom  is  a  defence  to  the  man  of 
knowledge  ;  in  a  vast  variety  of  circum- 
stances, he  is  on  a  vantage  ground  as  to 
others  who  possess  not  his  attainments. 
But  "  riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of 
wrath,"  and  "  the  wisdom  of  this  world 
is  foolishness  with  God."  Where  will 
be  the  rich  man's  defence,  when  he 
shall  be  parted  from  the  gold  which 
has  been  to  him  as  an  idol1?  where  the 
wise  man's,  when  the  last  conflagration 
shall  enfold  every  object  which  he  has 
delighted  to  study  1  But  they,  whose 
treasure  has  been  above, — they,  who 
have  counted  "  all  things  but  loss  for 
the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ," — they  shall  have  a  defence,  a 
sure  defence,  when  the  rich  man  is  des- 
titute, and  the  wise  man  speechless. 
They  have  chosen  that  which  cannot 
be  taken  away,  and  which  indeed  is 
then  only  fully  possessed,  when  every 
thing  else  departs  from  human  hold. 
"  On  such  the  second  death  hath  no 
power;"  they  are  "  children  of  the  re- 
surrection;" "neither  can  they  die  any 
more,  for  they  are  equal  unto  the  an- 
gels." And  as  they  soar  to  inherit  the 
kingdom  obtained  for  them  by  Christ, 
and  thus  lay  hold  on  an  immortality  of 
joy,  through  having  acquainted  them- 
selves with  Him,  as  "  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life,"  there  may  be  none  to  say 
that "  money  is  a  defence,  and  wisdom  is 
a  defence," — none  to  say  it,  in  the  face 
of  the  confounding  witness  of  the  ele- 
ments melting  with  fervent  heat,  and 
of  the  shrinking  away  of  those  who  had 
been  "  wise  in  their  own  eyes,  and  pru- 
dent in  their  own  sight;  "  but  the  whole 
company  of  the  redeemed  shall  be  join- 
ed by  the  thousand  times  ten  thousand 


of  the  celestial  host,  in  confessing  and 
publishing  that  the  excellency  of  know 
ledge  is,  "  that  wisdom,"  Christian  wis 
dom,  "  giveth  life  to  them  that  have  it." 

And  assuredly,  as  we  hinted  in  com- 
mencing our  discourse,  the  point  of  view 
under  which  we  have  thus  endeavored 
to  place  Christianity,  is  one  most  ap- 
propriate to  the  present  occasion.  The 
Corporation,  before  which  I  have  the 
honor  to  speak,  has  grown  great  by  act- 
ing upon  Christian  principles,  and  there- 
by becoming  pre-eminently  the  guardian 
of  human  life.  If  it  derive  its  name  from 
that  prime  mystery  of  our  faith,  the  full 
revelation  of  which  was  reserved  for 
Christian  times,  it  may  be  said  to  derive 
its  object  from  that  description  of  his 
mission,  which  our  blessed  Savioi 
gave,  when  He  declared  to  his  disci- 
ples, "  The  Son  of  man  is  not  come  to 
destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save  them." 
How  many  a  weeping  widow  would 
there  be,  who  is  now  a  happy  wife  ; 
how- many  a  desolate  orphan,  how  many 
a  childless  parent;  had  you  not  conse- 
crated science  to  the  noblest  of  pur- 
poses,— had  you  not,  with  as  much  in- 
dustry as  skill,  fathomed  the  seas  which 
beat  against  our  shores,  hung  the  firma- 
ment with  stars  in  the  darkest  night,  and 
traced  a  path  where  even  time  leaves 
no  furrow.  I  regard  such  a  Corpora- 
tion as  emphatically  an  illustration  of 
the  truth,  that  Christianity  is  a  life-giv- 
ing thing.  Ye  cannot,  indeed,  labor  at 
preserving  life,  without  laboring  also  at 
preserving  property.  But  it  has  been, 
it  is,  life,  which  ye  specially  aim  to  pro- 
tect :  the  poor  sailor-boy  has  a  dignity 
in  your  eyes,  because  made  in  God's 
image,  and  redeemed  by  Christ's  blood  ; 
for  his  sake  ye  are  ready  to  lavish  trea- 
sure and  toil ;  and  if  ye  enrol  yourselves 
under  one  whose  arm  has  launched  re- 
sistlessly  the  thunder-bolt  of  war,  it  is 
that  you  may  give  the  most  affecting  of 
proofs,  that  the  heart  to  care  for  the 
mean  may  be  found  with  the  hand  to 
crush  the  mighty. 

And  if  it  be  thus  your  splendid  office, 
to  prove  of  Christianity  that  "  it  giveth 
life  to  them  that  have  it,"  may  we  not 
justly  exhort  you  to  the  using  all  dili- 
gence, that  the  office  may  be  discharged 
with  greater  and  greater  fidelity  ]  Ye 
assemble  not  annually  in  the  house  of 
that  God,  whom,  by  your  very  name, 
ye  profess  to  honor  as  "  Father,  Son,  and 


CHRISTIANITY  THE   GUARDIAN  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


279 


Holy  Ghost,"  to  commemorate  your 
achievements,  and  hear  your  praises. 
Ye  rather  assemble  to  be  reminded  of 
your  duties,  to  stand,  as  it  were,  once 
more  round  the  altar  of  the  Lord,  and 
to  devote  yourselves,  by  a  fresh  vow,  to 
your  magnificent  calling.  I  could  ima- 
gine the  vow  heard  by  the  genius  of  the 
Storm,  causing  him  to  feel  as  though  his 
prey  were  snatched  from  him.  The 
sound  goes  forth  upon  the  waters, — if  it 
cannot  speak  them,  like  the  voice  of 
Christ  Himself,  into  stillness,  it  emu- 
lates that  voice  in  bidding  those  who 
traverse  them,  "  Be  of  good  cheer." 

Yes,  I  do  regard  you  as  gathered  for 
the  lofty  purpose  of  consecrating  your- 
selves anew  to  the  guardianship  of  life. 
And  it  gives  a  majestic  aspect  to  this 
our  assembling,  to  consider  it  designed 
for  the  throwing  fresh  ardency  into  a 
conflict  with  death.  Followers  of  Him, 
who  could  describe  Himself  as  "  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  of  whom 
it  was  emphatically  said,  that  He  "abo- 
lished death,  and  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light  by  the  Gospel;"  ye 
meet  to  resolve  that  the  grave  shall  not 
conquer  without  a  struggle ;  that,  if  thou- 
sands must  yet  go  down  with  the  waves 
for  their  winding-sheet,  thousands  more, 
though  environed  by  peril,  shall  escape 
safe  to  shore,  warned  by  your  beacons, 
guided  by  your  charts,  and  steered  by 
your  pilots.  Surely  it  can  hardly  be 
that  the  vow  will  be  made  by  any  insin- 
cerely, or  that  it  will  not  be  acted  upon 
fervently.  If  there  be  the  sunken  rock, 
which  has  not  hitherto  been  sufficiently 
marked;  the  channel,  whose  intricacies 
have  not  been  industriously  explored  ; 
the  sandbank,  whose  position  has  not 
been  carefully  defined ;  the  pilot,  whose 
sobriety  and  knowledge  have  not  been 
thoroughly  ascertained ;  ye  will  go 
hence  to  improve  and  perfect  the  ar- 
rangements which  have  already  done 
so  much  to  vindicate  for  Christianity 
the  high  praise  of  preserving  human 
life.  In  some  respects  ye  have  more 
power  than  in  others;  but  in  all  ye  have 
done  enough  to  warrant  the  expectation, 
that,  ere  long,  there  will  be  scarcely  a 
deficiency  to  supply.  Rocks,  indeed, 
and  shoals,  and  quicksands,  require  not 
your  constant  vigilance  :  once  accurately 
defined,  you  have  done  your  part  in 
directing  how  to  shun  them.  But  pilots 
demand  incessant  attention:  you  autho- 


rize them  as  guardians  of  property  and 
life  :  you  pledge  yourselves  to  the  world 
for  their  competence  ;  alas,  what  a  blot 
were  it  on  your  glorious  escutcheon,  if, 
though  no  carefulness  can  secure  you 
against  faithless  servants,  carelessness 
should  admit  those  whose  un worthiness 
might  have  been  known  !  It  is  like 
admitting  into  the  priesthood  a  man 
whose  unfitness  a  strict  scrutiny  would 
have  detected :  the  pilot  who  cannot 
steer  the  laboring  ship,  like  the  pastor 
who  cannot  guide  the  wandering  soul, 
is  risking  men's  eternity  ;  the  one  may 
cut  off  opportunities  of  repentance,  as 
the  other  may  fail  to  impress  its  neces- 
sity; both,  therefore,  may  woik  an  ever- 
lasting injury;  and  surely,  in  regard  of 
both,  they  who  might  have  prevented 
the  injury,  are  not  clear  of  its  commis- 
sion. 

There  remains  nothing  but  that  we 
tell  you,  with  all  simplicity  and  affec- 
tion, that,  in  proportion  as  ye  are  your- 
selves fraught  with  the  wisdom  which 
gives  life,  will  ye  be  fitted  for  the  faith- 
ful performance  of  duties  which,  dictated 
by  Christianity,  throw  over  it  a  lustre, 
and  establish  its  excellency.  For  never 
let  it  be  thought  that  any  trust  can  be  as 
well  discharged  without  as  with  personal 
religion.  To  receive  into  the  heart  "  the 
wisdom  which  is  from  above,"  is  to  fit 
ourselves  for  the  tasks  assigned  us  be- 
low. Let  me  borrow  an  illustration 
from  an  English  nobleman,  whose  son 
had  objected  that  no  apparent  good  fol- 
lowed the  rite  of  Confirmation,  that 
there  was  no  visible  difference  between 
those  who  submitted  to,  and  those  who 
neglected,  so  sacred  an  ordinance. 
"  Tell  me,"  said  the  father,  "  what  dif- 
ference your  eye  can  detect  between 
two  needles,  one  of  which  has  received 
an  electric  shock,  whilst  the  other  has 
not  1  And  yet  the  one  has  hidden  vir- 
tues, which  occasion  will  show,  of  which 
the  other  has  none.  The  electric  shock 
has  rendered  the  one  needle  a  magnet, 
which,  duly  balanced,  will  enable  man 
to  find  his  way  across  the  trackless 
ocean.  As  this  needle,  so  may  that 
soul  be,  which  has  received  the  electric, 
shock  of  the  Holy  Ghost :  on  the  ocean 
of  a  sinful  world,  it  shall  point  wander- 
ers to  the  haven  of  everlasting  rest." 

I  borrow  this  illustration,  and  dare 
assert,  that  if  the  eye  cannot  scan  the 
difference,  yet  will  they  who  open  the 


2S0 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


heart  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  be  the 
needle  which  has  received  the  electric 
shock,  as  compared  with  others  who 
know  that  religion  only  in  name.  They 
will  be  emphatically  givers  of  life,  as 
though,  like  the  needle,  they  were  en- 
dowed with  new  properties,  and  men 
might  steer  by  them  in  the  darkest  night 
and  on  the  roughest  waters.  Feeling 
that  they  have  drawn  life,  eternal  life, 
from  Christ,  they  will  burn  with  desire 
to  lead  others  to  the  Savior,  and  to 
prove  his  Gospel,  in  every  sense,  the 
chart  and  charter  of  the  world.  And 
therefore  do  we  know,  that,  in  exhorting 
each  to  be  watchful,  that  he  make  not 
shijnvreck  of  the  soul,  we  take  the  best 
means  of  urging  upon  each,  that,  in  his 
station  and  place,  he  be  more  assiduous 
than  ever  in  perfecting  arrangements 
for  preserving  human  lite.  Our  exhor- 
tation, then,  is,  that  ye  prepare  to  "  ap- 


pear before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ," 
lest,  having  reared  the  lighthouse,  ye  be 
yourselves  dashed  against  the  rocks  ; 
having  furnished  the  pilot,  ye  be  driven 
with  no  compass  into  eternity,  that  ocean 
unfathomable,  and  without  a  shore. 
Terrible  will  be  the  hurricane,  when,  in 
the  midst  of  dissolving  elements,  of  fall- 
ing worlds,  the  Son  of  man  shall  appear 
as  Judge  of  quick  and  dead.  Then 
shall  many  a  noble  ship,  freighted  with 
reason,  and  talent,  and  glorious  and 
beautiful  things,  be  broken  into  shreds. 
Then  shall  many  a  bark  founder  winch 
had  floated  gracefully  along,  with  every 
flag  flowing  as  though  life  had  been  a 
holiday.  And  the  only  vessels  which 
shall  ride  out  the  storm,  shall  be  those 
which,  having  made  the  Bible  their  map, 
and  Christ  their  light,  steered  boldly  for 
a  new  world,  in  place  of  coasting  the 
old. 


SERMON   III 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


And  the  eye  cannot  say  unto  the  hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee:  nor  aja 

you." — 1  CoKINTHIANS  XII.  21. 


the  head  to  the  feet,  1  have  no  need  oj 


The  Corinthian  Church,  here  address- 
ed by  St.  Paul,  was  unhappily  torn  by 
many  schisms  and  dissensions.  There 
had  been  a  rich  distribution  amongst 
its  members,  of  the  various  miraculous 
endowments  which  accompanied,  or  re- 
sulted from,  the  effusion  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  at  Pentecost ;  but  these  gifts,  in 
place  of  being  used  for  purposes  of  edi- 
fication, were  ostentatiously  displayed, 
and  made  occasions  of  bitterness  and 
contention. 

*  Preached  before  the  Corporation  of  Trinity 
House,  on  Trinity  Monday,  1842. 


To  show  the  wrongness  and  unreason- 
ableness of  this  state  of  things,  St.  Paul 
drew  an  illustration  from  the  human 
body,  in  which  a  great  variety  of  mem 
bers  and  organs  combined  to  the  pro- 
ducing symmetry  and  strength.  It  was» 
evident  that  the  parts  of  this  curious  and 
admirable  structure,  had  very  different 
offices  ;  but  it  was  equally  evident,  that 
no  part  could  be  dispensed  with  without 
injury  to  the  rest.  So  dependent  were 
the  several  members  the  one  on  the  oth- 
er, the  weakest  on  the  strongest,  the 
strongest    on    the    weakest,    that    nono 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


281 


could  be  regarded  as  unimportant,  how- 
ever mean  the  functions  which  it  had  to 
discharge.  This  was  parallel,  the  Apos- 
tle argued,  to  the  case  of  the  Christian 
Church  or  community.  The  Church 
was  composed  of  many  members,  differ- 
ing in' office  and  gifts.  Some  of  these 
members,  as  in  the  human  body,  were 
comparatively  without  honor,  but  none 
without  use.  Even  the  meanest  had  its 
appropriate  functions,  functions  as  es- 
sential to  the  general  well-being  as  those 
of  the  more  dignified.  The  men  who 
fill  subordinate  stations  in  the  Church, 
or  in  society,  can  no  more  be  spared 
than  those  who  fill  the  higher :  and  if  the 
latter  look  down  on  them  with  contempt, 
it  is  as  absurd  as  if  the  finer  organs  of 
the  body  were  to  declare  themselves 
independent  on  the  less  honored. 

This  is  the  general  idea  suggested  by 
the  figurative  language  of  our  text ;  and 
we  think,  that  in  following  out  and  illus- 
trating this  idea,  we  can  hardly  fail  to  find 
materia]  of  discourse  especially  adapted 
to  the  present  audience  and  occasion. 

Now  it  is  beautiful  to  observe,  what 
close  links  there  are  between  the  seve- 
ral classes  in  a  community,  and  how 
the  breaking  of  any  one  would  go  far 
towards  dislocating  the  whole  social 
system.  It  is  the  saying  of  Solomon, 
"  The  king  himself  is  served  by  the 
field  ;  "  and  the  saying  points  out  how 
the  throne  is  connected  with  the  soil, 
how  the  illustrious  occupant  of  the  one 
depends  on  the  tiller  of  the  other.  It  is 
literally  from  the  field  that  all  the  arts 
and  comforts  of  civilized  life  spring. 
Man's  first  toil  is  to  wring  subsistence 
from  the  earth  :  till  this  is  secured,  he 
can  do  nothing  towards  providing  what 
is  not  absolutely  indispensable  to  exist- 
ence. And  though  God  has  mercifully 
ordered  that  the  earth  should  yield  its 
productions  with  glorious  prodigality, 
and  that,  therefore,  out  of  a  teeming 
population,  only  few  need  give  them- 
selves to  agriculture — the  labor  of  one 
procuring  food  for  numbers,  and  thus 
leaving  numbers  at  liberty  to  give  them- 
selves to  other  callings  and  pursuits — 
it  is  too  evident  to  need  proof,  however 
easily  it  may  be  overlooked,  that  it  is 
actually  the  soil  which  furnishes,  and 
actually  the  tiller  of  the  soil  who  ex- 
tracts, the  material  of  which  is  compos- 
ed the  whole  fabric  of  a  thriving  com- 
munity. 

VOL.  II. 


When  you  look  on  such  a  community, 
on  its  nobles  rich  in  ancestral  honors  and 
rights,  on  its  merchants  covering  the 
ocean  with  their  fleets,  on  its  preachers 
devoting  themselves  to  the  diffusion  of 
Christianity,  on  its  men  of  science  ad- 
vancing daily  the  boundaries  of  know- 
ledge, on  its  artificers  producing  a  thou- 
sand luxuries  and  elegancies,  you  may, 
perhaps,  think  little  of  the  peasantry  who 
are  truly  the  upholders  of  the  splendid 
combination,  and  the  mainspring  which 
actuates  its  mighty  rotations.  Yet  you 
have  only  to  suppose  the  peasantry  ceas- 
ing from  their  labors — the  tillers  of  the 
field,  that  is,  refusing,  or  unable,  to  per- 
form any  longer  their  part  in  the  general 
economy — and  there  would  be  an  al- 
most immediate  arrest  on  the  businesses 
and  enjoyments  of  the  stirring  commu- 
nity ;  every  wheel  would  be  clogged, 
every  impulse  suspended  ;  so  that,  from 
the  throne  downwards,  through  every 
grade  and  division  of  society,  there 
would  be  no  aspect  but  of  panic,  and 
no  thought  but  of  warding  off  starvation. 

And  if  this  be  incontrovertible,  who 
can  fail  to  recognize  a  mutual  depend- 
ence amongst  the  ranks  of  a  community, 
causing  such  a  blending  and  interweav- 
ing of  the  several  interests,  that,  if  the 
poor  need  the  rich,  the  rich  stand,  at  least 
equally,  in  need  of  the  poor  1  There 
cannot  be  a  more  pitiable  spectacle  than 
that  of  a  haughty  individual,  who  looks 
superciliously  on  the  occupants  of  low- 
er stations  than  his  own.  We  call  it  a 
pitiable  spectacle,  because  manifesting 
thorough  ignorance  in  regard  of  the 
links  in  the  social  chain,  and  of  the 
contributions  which  the  inferior  classes 
make  to  the  dignities  of  the  higher.  A 
land,  covered  with  palaces,  but  without 
cottages — what  would  it  be  but  a  land 
covered  with  costly  sepulchres  ]  The 
sumptuousness  of  the  palace  was  pro- 
duced, and  is  sustained,  through  the 
honest  industry  which  may  be  found  in 
the  cottage  ;  and  the  effectual  way  of 
bringing  down  the  fine  structure,  or 
turning  it  into  a  mausoleum  for  its  in- 
mates, would  be  to  paralyze  the  activi- 
ties of  that  humble  race  of  men  whose 
whole  life  is  one  round  of  labor  and 
drudgery.  Are  we  not,  then,  warranted 
in  defining  as  a  pitiable  spectacle,  that 
of  a  man  who  despises  his  inferiors, 
looking  on  them  with  contempt,  as 
though  he  owed  them  nothing,  whereas 


282 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST, 


they  are  in  truth  his  benefactors  and 
upholders  1  Would  it  not  be  a  just  re- 
buke of  his  arrogance,  to  set  before  him 
the  closeness  of  his  association  with  the 
meanest  of  his  countrymen,  to  require 
him  to  trace  the  production  and  progress 
of  that  wealth,  or  that  rank,  which  min- 
isters to  his  pride,  till  he  found  it  origi- 
nating in  the  bone  and  muscle  of  the 
objects  of  his  scorn  1 

Yes,  we  think,  that  in  showing  men, 
as  we  easily  may,  that  society  is  so  con- 
stituted, that  its  upper  classes  derive 
their  advantages  through  the  industry 
of  the  lower,  so  that  a  derangement 
would  be  nowhere  so  fatal  as  amongst 
those  who  bear  the  least  honored  offices, 
we  effectually  expose  the  preposterous- 
ness  of  that  pride  which  would  put  a 
slight  on  the  poor  and  ignoble.  For 
what  is  to  be  said  of  any  conceited  as- 
sumption of  independence,  of  any  con- 
tempt of  those  who  fill  subordinate 
places,  when  it  can  be  proved  as  true 
in  the  body  politic  as  in  the  body  natu- 
ral, that  "  the  eye  cannot  say  unto  the 
hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee  ;  nor  again 
the  head  to  the  feet,  I  have  no  need  of 
you  1 " 

But  let  us  consider  this  great  fact  un- 
der a  somewhat  more  practical  point  of 
view — at  least,  under  one  that  will  more 
forcibly  commend  itself  to  a  Christian 
assembly.  It  is  easy  to  suppose,  though 
there  may  never  have  occurred,  the  case 
of  a  community  from  which  was  banish- 
ed every  thing  like  want,  so  that,  though 
gradations  of  rank  might  still  exist,  there 
should  be  every  where  sufficiency,  and 
perhaps  even  abundance.  This  is  a  state 
of  things  for  which  many  philanthropists 
ardently  long,  and  the  arriving  at  which 
they  would  count  the  arriving  at  the  very 
perfection  of  the  social  system.  They 
look  with  melancholy  feelings  on  •the 
unequal  distribution  of  temporal  advan- 
tages ;  and  commiserating  the  destitu- 
tion of  thousands  in  an  over-peopled 
land,  think  that  it  would  be  vastly  for 
the  general  good,  if  there  could  be  in 
every  family  independence  and  plenty. 
And  thus  would  they  desire  to  take 
away  from  amongst  us  the  actually  des- 
titute, reckoning  that  it  would  be  noth- 
ing less  than  the  mighty  regeneration  of 
a  country,  to  make  its  every  inhabitant 
independent  on  the  benevolence  of  eve- 
ry other. 

But,  for  our  own  part,  we  know  not 


how  to  join  in  this  longing  for  what 
might  be  called  universal  affluence.  We 
have  always  regarded  these  words  of 
the  Bible,  "  the  poor  shall  never  cease 
out  of  the  land,"  as  announcing  one  of 
those  wise  and  beneficent  arrangements 
of  Providence  which  so  eminently  dis- 
tinguish the  moral  government  of  the 
world.  And  if  you  could  find  us  the 
land,  in  respect  of  whii  h  these  words 
were  no  longer  verified,  the  land  out  of 
which  the  poor  had  ceased,  so  that  his 
own  resources  were  adequate  to  the 
wants  of  every  inhabitant,  it  would  not 
be  the  sunshine  in  its  sky,  nor  the  ver- 
dure on  its  fields,  which  could  persuade 
us  of  the  desirableness  of  dwelling  in 
that  land.  We  speak  now,  of  course, 
of  the  moral  advantages  which  a  coun- 
try might  present,  of  its  desirableness  as 
a  residence  for  those  in  quest  of  spirit- 
ual improvement;  and  we  say,  that  the 
country  in  which  it  would  be  hardest  to 
make  progress  in  genuine  piety,  would 
be  that  from  which  the  poor  had  alto- 
gether ceased,  in  whose  habitations  none 
were  to  be  found  requiring  the  succors 
of  Christian  benevolence.  One  of  the 
most  fatal,  and,  at  the  same  time,  most 
common,  of  the  tendencies  of  our  nature, 
is  the  tendency  to  selfishness.  The  for- 
getting others  and  the  caring  only  for 
ourselves — we  can  scarcely  help  being 
aware  that  there  is  nothing  to  which  we 
are  more  prone  than  to  this  ;  so  that  all 
our  watchfulness  is  required  to  prevent 
our  settling  into  narrow-hearted  things, 
with  no  joy  but  in  our  own  advancement, 
and  no  sorrow  but  in  our  own  trouble. 
And  who  can  fail  to  see  that  the  having 
amongst  us  objects  which  continually 
appeal  to  our  compassions,  the  being 
placed  in  such  circumstances  that  the 
spectacle  of  suffering  is  frequently  forc- 
ed on  our  observation,  and  the  tale  of 
distress  on  our  attention,  is  wonderfully 
adapted  to  the  counteracting  that  ten- 
dency to  which  we  have  referred  1  At 
least,  if  in  spite  of  the  multiplied  occa- 
sions on  which  we  now  come  in  contact 
with  objects  demanding  our  sympathy 
and  soliciting  our  succor,  we  find  it  in- 
tensely difficult  to  keep  the  affections 
from  centering  on  ourselves,  must  we 
not  believe  that  the  difficulty  would  be 
greatly  enhanced,  weie  the  afflicted  and 
destitute  removed  from  amongst  us,  so 
that  there  should  be  none  to  excite  pity, 
and  none  to  need  assistance  1  And  why, 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


2S3 


then,  should  we  hesitate  to  pronounce 
the  poor, — those  who  cannot  sustain 
themselves  by  their  own  industry,  but 
whom  one  cause  or  another  makes  de- 
pendent on  the  wealthy, — the'  blessings 
and  benefactors  of  a  community  1 

We  can  imagine  such  a  revolution  in 
the  circumstances  of  this  country,  that 
many  of  its  public  structures  might  no 
longer  be  required  for  the  purposes  to 
which  they  were  originally  devoted. 
The  spacious  receptacles  into  which 
commerce  brings  the  treasures  of  the 
globe  might  be  closed  ;  for  the  enter- 
prise and  capital  of  our  merchants  might 
be  exhausted,  or  wholly  overborne  by 
foreign  competition.  There  might  no 
longer  be  men  of  science  amongst  us, 
to  throng  buildings  reared  in  honor  of 
learning  and  for  the  advancement  of 
knowledge.  The  proud  edifices  might 
crumble,  within  which  are  gathered 
trophies  of  victory  and  implements  of 
war ;  for  we  might  have  descended  from 
our  lofty  position,  and  have  settled  into 
the  sullenness  of  a  subjugated  province. 
But  we  might  be  a  virtuous  and  a  Chris- 
tian people,  though  our  fleets  no  longer 
swept  every  sea,  and  we  were  no  longer 
conspicuous,  whether  by  literary  taste  or 
martial  prowess.  It  would  not  be  the 
downfall  of  our  vast  warehouses,  of  our 
splendid  museums,  or  of  our  towering 
arsenals,  which  could  fill  us  with  appre- 
hensions for  the  spiritual  well-being  of 
our  people.  The  structures  whose  re- 
moval, because  they  were  no  longer  re- 
quisite, would  seem  to  us  most  ominous 
to  the  vital  Christianity  of  the  nation — 
always  excepting  our  churches,  in  re- 
gard of  which  the  supposition  is  impos- 
sible— are  our  hospitals,  infirmaries,  and 
almshouses,  structures  consecrated  to  the 
reception  of  the  indigent  and  afflicted, 
and  the  closing  of  which  would  indicate 
that  there  was  no  longer  much  sphere 
for  the  exercise  of  philanthropy.  Whilst 
you  swept  away  buildings  which  belong 
to  us  as  a  rich,  intelligent,  and  powerful 
people,  we  should  feel,  that  though  there 
might  be  much  in  the  removal  that  was 
humiliating,  there  might  be  much  also 
that  was  profitable ;  and  that  the  likeli- 
hood was  far  from  inconsiderable,  that 
the  national  Christianity  would  eventu- 
ally be  strengthened  through  changes  so 
mortifying  to  the  national  pride.  But 
when  you  came  to  remove  structures 
reared  for  the  shelter  of  the  miserable, 


we  should  feel  the  removal  an  indication 
that  henceforward  there  would  be  little 
appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  heart ; 
and  we  could  therefore  anticipate  the 
rapid  growth  of  that  selfishness  which  is 
utterly  opposed  to  the  religion  of  Christ, 
which  marks  out  a  people  as  morally 
worthless,  whatever  their  wealth,  their 
science,  and  their  power. 

Thus  do  we  unhesitatingly  regard  the 
halt,  the  maimed,  and  the  blind,  the 
widow  in  her  penury,  and  the  orphan 
in  his  loneliness,  as  virtually  amongst 
the  most  useful  members  of  our  com- 
munity, keeping  that  community  from 
hardening  into  a  heartless  mass,  and 
preserving  in  healthful  play  its  sympa- 
thies and  sensibilities.  It  may  be  per- 
fectly true,  that  the  indigent  cannot  do 
without  the  benevolent;  but  it  is  equally 
true,  that  the  benevolent  cannot  do  with- 
out the  indigent.  And  we  pray  yo,u  to 
observe,  that  whensoever  you  give  ear 
to  a  tale  of  distress,  and  the  heart  melts 
at  the  cry  of  suffering,  and  you  contri- 
bute, according  to  your  ability,  to  the 
relief  of  the  suppliant,  you  receive  as 
well  as  confer  benefit ;  the  afflicted 
being  whom  you  succor,  and  thereby 
make  greatly  your  debtor,  keeps,  by 
his  appeal,  the  charities  of  your  nature 
from  growing  stagnant,  and  thus  may 
be  said  to  requite  the  obligation.  Oh, 
let  no  Christian  think  that  he  could 
safely  dispense  with  the  presence  and 
pleadings  of  the  poor  and  the  sorrowful ! 
Place  him  out  of  the  sight  of  their 
woe,  and  the  reach  of  their  cry,  and 
we  can  answer  for  it  that  he  would 
make  slower  progress  than  ever  in  the 
graces  of  the  Gospel,  and  that  his  moral 
condition  would  be  daily  less  hopeful. 
And  thus,  when  you  view  men  with 
reference  to  their  spiritual  interests, 
considering  them  as  combined  by  God 
into  societies  that  they  may  have  means 
and  opportunities  for  exercising  the 
virtues  and  securing  the  rewards  of 
Christianity,  we  know  not  how  you  can 
hesitate  to  set  side  by  side  the  possessor 
of  every  advantage  and  another  who  is 
bankrupt  even  in  hope,  him  who  is  at 
the  summit  and  him  who  is  at  the  bottom 
of  human  condition,  and  to  declare,  in 
the  expressive  language  of  our  text, 
"  The  eye  cannot  say  unto  the  hand,  I 
have  no  need  of  thee ;  nor  again  the 
head  to  the  feet,  I  have  no  need  of 
you." 


284 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


This  general  argument  might,  if  time 
permitted,  be  broken  into  detail.  We 
might  show  you  by  various  exemplifica- 
cations,  how  applicable  is  the  principle 
of  our  text  in  regard  of  the  several 
classes  of  society.  It  were  easy  to  en- 
large on  the  utter  uselessness  of  orders 
or  individuals,  who  may  be  likened  to 
the  more  honorable  members  of  the 
body,  were  there  not  other  orders  or 
individuals,  who  may,  with  equal  fit- 
ness, be  likened  to  the  less  honorable. 
Of  what  avail,  for  example,  would  be 
the  courage  and  skill  of  a  general  with- 
out troops  to  obey  his  commands  1 — of 
what  the  ingenuity  of  the  engineer, 
were  there  no  laborers  to  employ  his 
inventions  1 — of  what  the  wisdom  of  the 
legislator,  without  functionaries  to  carry 
his  measures  into  force  ]  In  these,  and 
a  thousand  like  instances,  if  it  be  neces- 
sary for  the  hand  and  the  feet  that  they 
be  directed  by  the  eye  and  the  head, 
the  eye  and  the  head  would  be  of  no 
use  if  unconnected  with  the  hand  and 
the  feet.  The  clergyman,  again,  is  a 
case  in  point.  If  those  ordained  to 
minister  in  the  congregation  may,  from 
the  importance  of  their  office,  be  likened 
to  the  eye  or  the  head  in  the  body,  they 
depend  greatly  on  the  very  lowest  of 
the  people,  as  they  prosecute  their  hon- 
orable and  difficult  employment.  For 
if,  as  we  endeavored  to  show  you,  the 
actual  presence  of  suffering  be  the  great 
antagonist  to  that  general  selfishness 
which  would  be  fatal  to  the  growth  of 
Christianity,  the  poor  of  his  flock  must 
be  a  clergyman's  best  auxiliaries,  seeing 
that  they  help  to  keep  the  rest  from  that 
moral  hardness  which  would  make  them 
impervious  to  his  most  earnest  remon- 
strance. Thus,  we  are  met  on  every 
side  by  illustrations  of  the  principle  in- 
volved in  the  text,  that  the  least  is  of 
service  to  the  greatest.  It  is  a  principle 
to  be  carefully  remembered  and  upheld. 
I  cannot  confine  to  the  upper  classes  of 
society  the  power  of  being  dignified,  and 
of  filling  a  vastly-important  part  in  the 
general  economy.  It  is  no  want  of 
loyalty,  neither  is  it  forgetfulness  of 
what  a  country  owes  to  its  nobles,  if, 
after  surveying  the  owners  of  a  palace, 
and  marking  the  diligence  with  which 
they  give  themselves  to  the  lofty  func- 
tions entailed  by  their  grandeur,  I  pass 
to  one  of  the  meanest  of  our  cottages, 
and,  finding  its  inmates  prosecuting  daily 


toils  with  industry,  and  bearing  daily 
privations  with  patience,  feel  that  in 
all  which  is  inherently  great  and  essen- 
tially good,  the  inhabitants  of  the  hovel 
are  on  a  Itevel  with  those  of  the  magni- 
ficent ancestral  abode.  Poverty  will 
never  degrade  a  man  ;  nothing  but  vice 
will  do  that.  Poverty  will  never  dis- 
able a  man  for  usefulness,  seeing  that 
it  can  but  change  his  office  in  the  body, 
and  there  is  no  office  unimportant  to 
the  general  health.  Why,  then,  are 
not  our  poor,  our  honest,  hard-working, 
and  moral  poor,  to  lift  up  their  heads  in 
society,  in  all  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing an  honorable  part  to  perform,  and 
in  all  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  they 
perform  it  faithfully  and  effectually  1 

And  1  dwell  on  this  usefulness,  this 
indispensableness,  of  the  lower  classes 
to  the  higher,  because  nowhere  is  it 
more  practically  exhibited  and  recog- 
nized than  by  that  noble  Corporation 
which  I  am  now  permitted  to  address. 
The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  illustrious 
and  the  mean,  the  scientific  and  the 
illiterate,  are  blended  herein ;  but  so 
blended,  that  every  one  is  serviceable 
to  every  other.  If  ye  have  at  youi 
head  the  conqueror  of  his  country's 
enemies,  and  the  stay  of  her  greatness; 
if  men,  who  would  have  been  distin- 
guished by  their  birth,  had  not  such 
distinction  been  forgotten  in  that  of 
their  deeds,  enrol  themselves  in  your 
list ;  if  veterans  in  that  service  which 
has  given  England  her  supremacy,  con- 
secrate their  experience  to  the  perfect- 
ing your  charts ;  if  the  astronomer  be 
amongst  you,  to  make  the  stars  your 
ministers;  the  engineer,  to  plant  ram- 
parts against  the  ocean  ;  the  architect, 
to  rear  the  lighthouse  in  defiance  of  the 
tempest ;  are  ye  not,  nevertheless,  de- 
pendent on  the  poor  and  ignoble  ]  Ye 
have  devoted  yourselves  to  the  protec- 
tion of  navigation,  that,  under  your  aus- 
pices, commerce  may  go  boldly  forth; 
and  sweep  into  our  ports  the  riches  of 
the  earth ;  but  of  what  avail  were  your 
pains,  if  the  sailor  could  not  be  found 
to  climb  the  mast,  nor  the  pilot  to  seize 
the  helm  ]  Surely  here  again  "  the  eye 
cannot  say  unto  the  hand,  I  have  no 
need  of  thee  ;  nor  again  the  head  to  the 
feet,  I  have  no  need  of  you." 

And  the  finest  point  of  view  under 
which  to  survey  this  Corporation,  is  to 
regard   it    as    centering    its    care    and 


THE  LEAST  OF  SERVICE  TO  THE  GREATEST. 


285 


ecience  on  the  destitute  and  lowly.  It 
has  an  eye,  an  eye  from  whose  glance 
of  fire  a  world  has  recoiled  ;  hut  that 
eye  saith  not  to  the  hand,  "  I  have  no 
need  of  thee:"  it  anxiously  watches 
the  meanest  manner,  and  is  ever  on  the 
look  out,  that  he  may  be  warned  of  his 
danger.  It  has  a  head,  a  head  encircled 
with  surpassing  renown  ;  but  that  head 
saith  not  to  the  feet,  "  I  have  no  need 
of  you  :  "  it  is  occupied  with  caring  for 
the  poor  cabin-boy,  as  recognizing  his 
usefulness,  and  his  claim  to  be  remem- 
bered in  his  wanderings  on  the  deep. 
For  not  only  does  this  Corporation  la- 
bor at  the  protection  of  the  seaman,  by 
lighting  up  the  rocks  which  environ  our 
island,  and  furnishing  our  ships  with  skil- 
ful pilots ;  it  devotes  much  of  its  revenue 
to  purposes  of  charity,  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  such  structures  for  the  aged 
and  infirm  as  I  have  ventured  to  call 
bulwarks  against  the  worst  evils  that  can 
fall  on  a  land.  And  the  most  gratifying 
thing  in  this  annual  celebration,  is  not 
the  pomp  in  which  you  descend  yonder 
noble  river,  not  the  stateliness  of  ancient 
custom,  not  even  the  thrilling  welcome 
with  which  thousands  meet  a  venerated 
chieftain ;  it  is  rather  the  air  of  comfort, 
and  of  happiness,  which  distinguishes 
the  inmates  of  your  almshouses,  the 
quiet  thankfulness  with  which  they 
come  forward,  testifying  that  those  who 
employed  them  in  their  strength  succor 
and  defend  them  in  their  decline. 

And  if  the  very  structure  of  this  Cor 
poration  thus  make  it  furnish  not  only 
an  illustration  of  the  fact  asserted  in  our 
text,  but  an  example  of  that  regard  for 
inferior  members  which  should  be  shown 
by  the  higher,  we  aie  bound  to  add  that 
the  honor  hereby  done  to  an  inferior, 
should  urge  to  faithfulness  and  diligence 
in  duty.  The  hands  and  the  feet  should 
be  unwearied  in  labor,  when  the  eye  and 
the  head  are  thus  unwearied  in  care. 
The  pilots,  for  example,  on  whom  so 
much  depends,  who  have  often  property 
in  their  keeping,  the  loss  of  which  would 
be  the  bankruptcy  of  cities,  and  lives 
whose  destruction  would  fill  a  country 
with  wailing,  ought  they  not  to  feel  that 
sobriety  and  fidelity,  duties  in  every 
case,  are  doubly  so  in  theirs,  lest  they 
fail  in  a  trust  received  from  so  high  an 
authority  1  Ignorant  or  drunken  pilots 
are  virtually  as  much  the  enemies  of 
society  as  robbers  and  assassins  :  for  are 


they  not  hands  which  would  pluck  out 
the  eye,  and  feet  which  would  run  the 
head  against  the  rocks  1  Rut  ignorant 
or  drunken  pilots,  who  have  received 
their  commission  from  the  Trinity 
Board,  whether  they  have  imposed  on 
that  Board  at  first,  or  fallen  afterwards 
into  bad  habits,  are  as  robbers  and  as- 
sassins with  every  possible  aggravation, 
— hands  which  would  pluck  out  the  eve 
when  wakeful  for  their  good,  feet  which 
would  run  the  head  against  the  rocks 
when  occupied  with  kind  thoughts  for 
their  safety  and  happiness. 

We  have  drawn  our  illustrations,  on 
the  present  occasion,  from  the  useful- 
ness of  every  member  of  the  human 
body  to  every  other;  and  we  ought  not 
to  conclude  without  observing,  that,  as 
a  day  approaches  when  the  body,  with 
all  its  curious  adaptations  and  symme- 
tries, must  lie  down  in  the  dust,  no  one 
member  being  exempt  from  the  general 
decay,  so  is  a  time  at  hand  when  the 
mighty  and  the  weak,  the  lofty  and  the 
low,  must  alike  depart  from  the  scene, 
so  that  the  place  which  has  known  them 
shall  know  them  no  more.  But  there  is 
to  come  a  judgment  according  to  works, 
a  judgment  on  the  body  as  well  as  on 
the  soul.  The  judgment  on  the  body 
may  be  a  judgment  of  its  several  mem- 
bers, according  as  they  shall  have  yield- 
ed themselves  to  the  service  of  unright- 
eousness. Shall  not  the  eye  be  judged, 
if  it  have  been  lit  up  with  the  fires  of 
base  passion  1  Shall  not  the  head  be 
judged,  if  it  have  employed  itself  on 
"  science  falsely  so  called  V  Shall  not 
the  tongue,  if  it  have  given  utterance 
to  the  scornfulness  of  the  blasphemer, 
or  the  voluptuousness  of  the  sensualist] 
Shall  not  the  hand,  if  it  have  held  greed- 
ily the  coveted  wealth  ] 

And,  in  like  manner,  the  judgment 
on  individuals  shall  take  form  and  mea- 
sure from  their  office  and  position  upon 
earth.  The  great  and  illustrious  shall 
be  asked,  whether  they  had  sought  to 
employ  their  high  prerogatives  on  pro- 
moting God's  glory  and  the  kingdom  of 
Christ.  The  wealthy  shall  be  asked, 
whether  they  had  regarded  themselves 
as  stewards,'  and  used  riches  on  the  re- 
lief of  the  miserable  and  the  instruction 
of  the  ignorant.  The  learned  shall  be 
asked,  whether  they  had  hallowed  their 
science,  by  rendering  it  subservient  to 
the  making  themselves  and  others  "  wise 


286 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE. 


unto  salvation."  The  poor  shall  be  ask- 
ed, whether  they  had  borne  poverty  with 
contentment,  and  meekly  struggled  with 
those  difficulties  which  God  had  been 
pleased  to  weave  into  their  portion. 
Yea,  and  all  shall  be  asked,  what  they 
have  done  with  the  soul,  that  precious 
deposit,  which,  redeemed  at  the  inesti- 
mable cost  of  Christ's  blood,  may  be, 
and  is,  flung  away  by  thousands  ;  by 
conquerors,  who  conquer  all  but  them- 
selves ;  scholars,  who  study  every  thing 
but  themselves  ;  preachers,  who  preach 
to  every  one  but  themselves  ;  by  multi- 
tudes, who  care  for  every  thing  but  the 
one  thing  needful,  have  time  except  for 
eternity,  and  room  in  the  heart  except 
for  God. 

Oh,  that  all  might  remember  the  strict 
and  solemn  account  thus  eventually  to 
be  rendered  !  The  shipwreck  of  the 
soul !  there  is  no  language  for  the  ex- 
pressing such  catastrophe  ;  seeing  that 
to  "  lose  the  soul  "  is  not  to  be  deprived 
of  the  soul — this  might  comparatively  be 
happiness  ;  it  is  to  retain  possession  of 
the  soul,   but  the  soul  laboring  under 


some  awful  denunciation :  and  to  lose 
whilst  we  keep  !  there  is  something  ter- 
rible in  the  very  contradiction.  It  is 
total  shipwreck  ;  and  yet  the  stately 
vessel  rides  the  waters,  in  place  of  hav- 
ing foundered  ;  holds  fast  her  gallant 
trim,  in  place  of  being  broken  into  shiv- 
ers ;  lost,  through  being  incapable  of 
sinking  ;  doomed  to  wander  for  ever  on 
a  shoreless  sea,  driven  by  a  storm  which 
knows  no  pause,  through  a  night  which 
has  no  morning. 

But  as  yet  this  mysterious  and  fearful 
doom  is  not  incurred  by  any  amongst 
us.  The  soul  may  still  be  saved,  saved 
by  the  old,  saved  by  the  young.  Only 
take  heed,  that,  whilst  you  rear  the 
beacon,  and  map  the  channel,  that  the 
mariner  may  be  guided  to  "  the  haven 
where  he  would  be,"  you  keep  the  eye 
on  Christ,  "  the  true  light,"  and  follow 
the  directions  of  that  Gospel  which  gives 
the  soundings  of  the  river  of  life  ;  and 
to  die  shall  be  but  to  cast  anchor  by  a 
happy  shore — a  new  world,  which,  un- 
like the  old,  can  neither  disappoint  nor 
disappear. 


SERMON   IT 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE.t 


"  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face  slialt  thou  eat  bread,  till  thou  return  i 
dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou 


the  ground  ;  for  out  of  it  wast  thou  taken  :  for 
rn." — Genesis  hi.  19. 


You  have  here  a  portion  of  the  sen- 
tence pronounced  upon  Adam,  because 


"  Preached  before  the  Corporation  of  Trinity 
House,  on  Trinity  Monday,   1844. 

t  So  comprehensive  were  the  thoughts  of  our 
great  masters  in  theology,  that  the  following  dis- 
course is  hut  the  expansion  of  a  single  sentence 
of  the  admirable  Barrow,  who  says  of  industry, 
"  We  were  designed  for  it  in  our  first  happy 
state,  and  upon  our  lapse  thence,  were  further 


he  had  hearkened  to  his  wife,  and  eaten 
the  forbidden  fruit.  Sentence  had  al- 
ready been  passed  upon  the  serpent  and 
upon  Eve  ;  the  serpent  who  had  beguil- 
ed our  common  mother,  and  that  mother 
herself,  through  whose  disobedience  we 

doomed  to  it,  as  the  sole  remedy  of  our  needs 
and  the  inconveniences  to  which  we  became 
exposed." 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE. 


287 


became  mortal  and  miserable.  Unto 
the  serpent  It  was  said,  that  upon  his 
belly  he  should  go,  and  dust  should  he 
eat  all  the  days  of  his  life, — a  doom 
which  must  have  referred  rather  to  Sa- 
tan, who  had  assumed  the  serpent's 
shape,  than  to  the  serpent  itself,  and 
which  may  have  been  accomplished  in 
the  abject  condition  of  that  fallen,  though 
yet  mighty  spirit.  Unto  the  woman  it 
was  announced  that  it  should  be  in  much 
pain  and  anguish  she  gave  birth  to  her 
children — an  intimation  in  which,  it  may 
be,  there  was  promise  as  well  as  threat- 
ening; for  Eve  had  already  heard  of 
the  seed  of  the  woman  that  was  to  bruise 
the  serpent's  head  ;  and  she  might  now 
gather  that,  through  much  suffering, 
there  would  at  last  arise  a  Deliverer. 
And  now  must  the  man  stand  forward, 
and  take  his  doom  from  the  lips  of  his 
Maker.  Amongst  all  the  sentences, 
there  is  none  which  so  marks  the  hate- 
ful character  of  sin,  and  its  devastating 
power.  "  Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy 
sake."  So  deadly  a  thing  is  evil,  which 
thou  hast  been  instrumental  in  introdu- 
cing, that  the  very  soil  whereon  thou 
treadest  is  thereby  made  barren.  No 
longer  shall  the  earth  spontaneously 
yield  thee  her  fruits ;  for  henceforward 
thorns  and  thistles  shall  be  its  natural 
produce.  "  In  sorrow  shalt  thou  eat  of 
it  all  the  days  of  thy  life," — thou  must 
wring  a  hard  subsistence  from  the  re- 
luctant field,  in  place  of  gathering  an 
abundance  which  solicits  thine  accept- 
ance. And  there  will  be  no  termination 
to  this  toil,  until  the  earth,  which  has 
almost  refused  thee  sustenance,  shall 
give  thee  a  grave.  "  In  the  sweat  of 
thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread,  till  thou 
return  unto  the  ground."  Thou  hast 
been  formed  from  that  ground  ;  its  dust 
has  been  compounded  into  thy  limbs  ; 
and  the  curse  is  upon  thy  body,  and 
upon  all  the  material  of  which  its 
members  have  been  framed.  The  dust 
therefore  must  mingle  with  the  dust, — 
"  dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt 
return." 

Such  was  the  sentence  on  our  offend- 
ing father,  and  on  ourselves  as  havinor 
offended  and  fallen  in  him.  And  we 
need  not  tell  you  how  faithfully  the 
sentence  has  been  executed.  You  know 
that,  with  few  exceptions,  and  those, 
perhaps,  more  apparent  than  real,  labor 
— painful  and  oppressive  labor — is  the 


lot  of  humankind  ;  and  that  it  is  by  some 
species  or  another  of  toil  that  every  man 
gains  his  sufficiency  of  food.  If  you 
traverse  the  globe,  you  find  every  where, 
though  not  always  in  the  same  degree, 
the  human  race  fighting  against  want, 
and  the  great  majority  of  a  population 
struggling  with  the  earth  for  a  miserable 
pittance.  In  some  places  there  is  greatei" 
luxuriance  in  the  soil,  in  others  greater 
sterility  ;  but  nowhere  do  you  find  that 
man  eats  bread  except  in  the  sweat  of 
his  face.  From  pole  to  pole,  amid  the 
snows  of  perpetual  winter,  and  beneath 
the  blazings  of  a  tropical  sun,  there  is 
but  one  cry  and  one  strife, — the  cry  of 
millions  for  the  means  of  subsistence, 
the  strife  with  a  ground  on  which  rests 
God's  curse,  and  which  therefore  yields 
nothing  until  extorted  from  its  womb. 
And  thus  is  the  history  of  our  race  little 
more  than  one  vast  evidence  that  we 
are  the  posterity  of  one  whose  disobe- 
dience spoiled  the  earth  of  its  fruitful- 
ness,  and  who,  receiving  in  himself  the 
sentence  of  labor,  transmitted  it,  unex- 
hausted and  inexhaustible,  to  all  after 
generations. 

Yet  if  "  mercyrejoiced  against  judg- 
ment" in  the  words  uttered  to  the  ser 
pent  and  the  woman,  let  us  not  hastily 
conclude  that  there  was  nothing  of  love 
in  the  sentence  of  which  the  man  was 
the  subject.  We  rather  incline  to  be- 
lieve that  it  was  not  wholly  in  anger  and 
righteous  severity  that  God  made  the 
cursing  of  the  ground  the  punishment 
of  Adam.  We  think  that  it  will  not  be 
difficult  to  show  that  the  Almighty  was 
consulting  for  the  good  of  his  creatures 
when  He  thus  made  labor  their  inevita- 
ble lot.  It  was  indeed  in  just  indigna- 
tion that  He  passed  a  stern  sentence, 
which  still  rests  as  a  heavy  burden  on 
ourselves.  But  it  may  have  happened 
that  He  so  shaped  that  sentence  as  to 
make  it  beneficial  as  well  as  punitive, 
and  thus  gave  cause  that  we  exclaim 
with  David,  in  reference  to  this  as  to 
every  other  instance  of  his  chastisement, 
"I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  judgment; 
unto  thee,  O  Lord,  will  I  sing." 

It  will  be  our  endeavor  to  prove  that 
this  is  the  fact.  We  shall  soon  perceive 
that  no  subject  could  be  more  appropri- 
ate to  the  present  occasion  ;  but  without 
anticipating  the  application,  let  us  ex- 
amine into  the  mercy  (for  the  judgment 
is  sufficiently  apparent)  of  that  appoint* 


288 


THE   BLESSING  IN'  THE   CURSE. 


ment  of  God  which  took  much  of  its 
fruitfulness  from  the  earth,  arid  made 
toil  the  common  heritage  of  man. 

Now  we  need  not  limit  our  remarks 
to  the  single  case  of  agriculture  ;  for 
we  may  safely  affirm  that  there  is  noth- 
ing worth  man's  attaining  which  he  can 
attain  without  labor.  It  is  not  merely 
his  bread  which  he  wrings  with  hard 
ship  from  the  ground, — whatsoever  the 
earth  contains  of  precious  and  useful 
can  only  be  obtained  through  being 
wrenched  from  its  recesses,  and  is  pro- 
cured for  us  by  the  bone  and  the  sinew 
of  suffering  humanity.  And  where  man 
has  not,  in  strict  truth,  to  live  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  he  may  have  to  live, 
which  is  far  harder,  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brain  ;  intellectual  food,  even  more  than 
bodily,  is  only  to  be  gathered  by  dint  of 
unremitting  toil.  It  is,  therefore,  the 
very  character  of  the  dispensation  be- 
neath which  we  are  placed,  that  all  must 
be  laborers  ;  and  we  may  perhaps  as- 
sume as  universally  conceded,  that  idle- 
ness is  the  fruitful  parent  of  every  kind 
of  vice.  But  it  follows  from  this,  that 
the  placing  it  in  a  man's  power  to  be 
idle,  the  supplying  him,  that  is,  with  the 
means  of  subsistence  without  exacting 
from  him  any  labor,  is  simply  the  expo- 
sing him  to  the  greatest  possible  peril, 
and  the  almost  ensuring  his  moral  de- 
generacy. There  are,  indeed,  frequent 
and  noble  exceptions  to  this  statement. 
Many,  whose  circumstances  preclude  all 
necessity  of  toiling  for  a  livelihood,  carve 
out  for  themselves  paths  of  honorable 
industi-y,  becoming  the  illustrious  bene- 
factors of  a  community  through  labors 
which  their  own  wants  would  never 
have  exacted.  Such  cases,  however, 
prove  nothing  against  our  statement ; 
they  are  not  cases  of  idleness,  but  cases 
in  which  men,  having  the  power  to-  be 
idle,  have  felt  the  evil  of  such  a  state, 
and  voluntarily  submitted  themselves  to 
the  ordinance  of  labor.  The  assertion 
as  to  the  peril  of  idleness  remains  un- 
touched ;  neither  is  any  proof  given  that 
it  would  be  safe  to  entrust  the  great 
mass  of  men  with  the  power  of  being 
idle.  And  this  is  the  single  question, 
when  the  matter  in  debate  is  the 
mercy  of  that  arrangement  which 
took  from  the  soil  its  first  unbound- 
ed fruitfulness.  Would  the  mass  of 
men  give  themselves  to  honorable  and 
praiseworthy  occupations,  if  no  neces- 


sity were  laid  on  them  by  the  wants  of 
their  nature  ] 

The  question  may,  in  a  great  degree, 
be  answered  by  a  reference  to  cases  in 
which  the  approach  is  the  nearest  to  the 
supposed  exemption  from  want.  We 
look  at  countries  in  which  the  soil  pos- 
sesses the  greatest  fertility, — are  their 
inhabitants  the  most  distinguished  by 
what  is  laudable  and  excellent  1  On 
the  contrary,  it  may  safely  be  affirmed, 
that  where  nature  is  most  prodigal  of 
her  bounties,  men  make  least  advances 
in  what  enobles  a  kingdom.  There  are 
districts  of  this  globe  on  which  the  curse 
<>f  barrenness  has  fallen  so  lightly,  that 
they  might  almost  be  thought  to  have  re- 
tained their  original  fruitfulness.  There 
is  little  or  no  demand  on  the  labors  of 
the  husbandman  :  the  mountains  and  the 
valleys  stand  thick  with  rich  produce, 
and  have  scarcely  asked  the  mattock  or 
the  ploughshare.  But  the  inhabitants 
of  these  districts  are,  for  the  most  part, 
sunk  in  the  lowest  degradation,  and  are 
far  behind  other  nations  in  what  is  dig- 
nified and  civilized.  No  where  do  you 
find  more  of  hopeless  suffering  and  ab- 
ject penury — as  though  misery  increased 
at  the  same  rate  as  the  means  of  its  al- 
leviation. If  you  would  fix  on  a  people 
presenting  the  finest  spectacle  of  great- 
ness, order,  and  intelligence,  you  must 
go  to  lands  where  there  is  a  constant 
struggle  for  the  material  of  subsistence, 
— where  any  approach  towards  univer- 
sal ^idleness  would  be  an  approach  to- 
wards unive7-sal  destitution.  There  it 
is  that  civilization  makes  most  rapid 
advances ;  there  you  find  the  most  of  a 
well-ordered  and  well-conditioned  pop- 
ulation. We  wish  that  we  could  sketch 
to  you  what  a  change  would  be  intro- 
duced into  such  a  country  as  our  own 
by  a  repeal  of  the  sentence  pronounced 
upon  Adam.  Let  it  be  imagined  that 
there  was  suddenly  an  end  to  all  de- 
mands upon  toil,  so  that  our  fields  yield- 
ed, almost  spontaneously,  whatever  was 
needed  for  the  support  of  our  popula- 
tion. We  will  not  say  that  the  whole 
social  system  would  be  instantly  disor- 
ganized ;  for  time  might  be  required  to 
overthrow  confirmed  habits  of  order  and 
industry.  But  you  cannot  doubt  that  a 
vast  and  fatal  revolution  would  be  im- 
mediately commenced.  You  cannot 
doubt,  that,  among  the  lower  orders  es- 
pecially, who  are  accustomed  only  to 


THE  BLESSVNG  IN  THE  CURSE. 


2S9 


the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  tliore  are 
hundreds,  thousands,  who  would  prefer 
the  bread  of  idleness  to  that  of  labor, 
whom  nothing  but  the  necessity  of  driv- 
ing from  their  doors  the  stern  aspect  of 
famine  keeps  fast  to  any  employment, 
and  who  would  quickly,  if  there  were 
the  supposed  inundation  of  plenty, 
cease  from  occupation  and  run  riot  in 
the  abundance.  And  there  would  be 
no  power  in  the  upper  classes  of  making 
bead  against  the  lawlessness  and  insub- 
ordination which  would  thus  pervade  all 
the  lower,  even  if  they  caught  nothing 
of  the  infection,  but  were  themselves  as 
desirous  as  before  of  carrying  forward 
the  engagements  of  industry.  The  mo- 
ment that  the  poorer  ranks  had  resolved 
on  being  idle,  there  would  be  an  arrest 
on  all  the  business  of  the  higher  ;  for 
such  are  the  links  in  the  social  combi- 
nation, that,  in  putting  one  part  out  of 
joint,  you  unhinge  the  whole  system. 
And  when  you  add  the  almost  certainty, 
that  the  enervating  effects  of  this  change 
of  comparative  sterility  for  unbounded 
fruitfulness  would  extend  themselves  to 
every  class  which  is  required  to  labor, 
you  cannot  but  allow,  that  there  would 
be  quickly  a  cessation  of  all  commerce, 
and  an  end  to  all  enterprize,  and  that 
the  nation  would  soon  present  the  in- 
glorious spectacle  of  a  mere  stagnant 
humanity,  ruffled  only  by  the  worst  pas- 
sions of  our  nature.  We  can  imagine 
no  other  condition, — and  we  do  not  be- 
lieve it  would  be  long  ere  it  were  reach- 
ed,— than  one  in  which  all  that  is  noble 
in  legislature,  and  pure  in  theology,  and 
lofty  in  morals,  and  splendid  in  intellect, 
and  bold  in  enterprize,  would  be  buried 
in  one  common  grave.  But  if  there  be 
any  truth  in  this  description  of  the  con- 
sequences of  impregnating  the  soil  of  a 
land  with  the  lost  fertility  of  Paradise, 
will  you  not  confess  that  it  was  with  a 
distinct  knowledge  and  forethought  of 
what  would  suit  a  fallen  race,  that  the 
Almighty  pronounced  the  edict  of  bar- 
renness l  Oh,  if  ever  you  are  tempted 
to  repine  that  toil  has  been  made  the 
heritage  of  man,  and  that  the  great  bulk 
of  our  species  must  wring  from  the  earth 
a  scant  and  precarious  subsistence,  we 
conjure  you  to  observe  how  the  well- 
being,  perhaps  almost  the  existence,  of 
a  community  is  dependent  on  the  circu- 
lation through  all  its  classes  of  a  vigor- 
ous industry,  and  how  again,  that  indus- 
vol  ii..  37 


try  is  dependent  on  the  sterility  of  the 
soil, — and  then,  when  you  see  that  the 
destroying  the  necessity  for  labor,  by 
causing  the  ground  to  yield  superfluity 
without  toil,  would  be  the  destroying  of 
all  that  is  venerable,  and  healthful,  and 
dignified,  and  the  reducing  a  people  to 
the  lowest  level  of  mere  animal  being, 
you  will  be  forced  to  allow,  that,  how- 
ever harsh  in  sound,  there  was  the  full- 
est mercy,  as  well  as  the:  richest  wisdom 
in  the  appointment,  "  Cursed  is  the 
ground  for  thy  sake ;  in  the  sweat  of 
thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread." 

But  are  there  any  intimations  in 
Scripture,  thflt  the  sentence  upon  Adam 
was  designed  to  breathe  mercy  as  well 
as  judgment  ]  We  believe  that,  so  soon 
as  man  fell,  notices  were  graciously  giv- 
en of  a  deliverance  to  be  effected  in  the 
fulness  of  time.  It  is  hardly  to  be  sup- 
posed that  Adam  would  be  left  ignorant 
of  what  it  so  much  concerned  him  to 
know  ;  and  the  early  institution  of  sac- 
rifice seems  sufficient  to  prove  that  he 
was  taught  a  religion  adapted  to  his  cir- 
cumstances. And  Lamech,  on  naming 
his  son  Noah,  which  signifies  "  rest," 
exclaimed,  "  This  same  shall  comfort  us 
concerning  our  work  and  toil  of  our 
hands,  because  of  the  ground  which  the 
Lord  hath  cursed."  He  seems,  that  is, 
to  have  been  made  aware  of  the  respects 
in  which  his  son  Noah  would  typify  the 
Christ,  taught  that  the  curse  upon  the 
ground  was  but  temporary,  imposed  for 
wise  ends,  until  the  final  manifestation 
of  a  Redeemer,  under  whose  sceptre  the 
desert  should  rejoice  and  "  blossom  as 
a  rose."  But  if  so  much  were  revealed 
to  Lamech,  it  cannot  be  an  overbold 
supposition  that  the  same  information 
was  imparted  to  Adam.  Thus  may  our 
first  parent,  compelled  to  till  an  earth 
on  which  rested  the  curse  of  its  Creator, 
have  known  that  there  was  blessing  in 
store  ;  and  that,  though  he  and  his 
children  must  dig  the  ground  in  the 
sweat  of  their  face,  there  would  fall  on 
it  a  sweat  like  great  drops  of  blood, 
having  virtue  to  remove  the  oppressive 
malediction.  It  must  have  been  bitter  to 
him  to  hear  of  the  thorn  and  the  thistle  ; 
but  he  may  have  learnt  how  thorns 
would  be  woven  into  a  crown,  and 
placed  round  the  forehead  of  One  who 
should  be  as  the  lost  tree  of  life  tt  a 
dying  creation.  The  curse  upon  the 
ground    may    have    been    regarded    by 


290 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE. 


him  as  a  perpetual  memorial  of  the 
fatal  transgression  and  the  promised 
salvation  ;  reminding  him  of  the  sterility 
of  his  own  heart,  and  the  toil  it  would 
cost  the  Redeemer  to  reclaim  that  heart, 
and  make  it  bring-  forth  the  fruits  of 
righteousness;  telling  him,  whilst  pur- 
suing his  daily  task,  what  internal  hus- 
bandry was  needful,  and  whose  arm 
alone  could  break  up  the  fallow  ground 
— and  thus  Adam  may  have  been  com- 
forted, as  Lameeh  was  comforted,  by 
the  Noah  who  was  to  bring  rest  to 
wearied  humanity  :  and  it  may  have 
been  in  hope  as  well  as  in  contrition, 
in  thankfulness  as  well  as  in  sorrow, 
that  he  carried  with  him  this  sentence 
in  his  banishment  from  Paradise, 
"  Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake; 
in  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat 
bread." 

We  have  not  yet  mentioned,  though 
it  is  well  worth  the  remark,  that,  had 
the  earth  yielded  her  fruit  so  abundantly 
as  to  leave  no  place  for  suffering  and 
destitution,  there  would  have  been  com- 
paratively no  call  on  man's  sympathies, 
but  selfishness  would  have  reigned  with 
unlimited  despotism.  We  must  become 
as  angels  before  we  can  be  fitted  to  live 
in  a  world  in  which  there  is  no  want. 
Poverty  and  wretchedness  serve  to  keep 
alive  the  best  charities  of  our  nature  ; 
and  it  were  better  for  us,  in  a  moral 
point  of  view,  to  live  always  in  a  hos- 
pital, or  amid  the  ravages  of  famine, 
than  in  a  luxuriant  land,  where  there 
were  none  to  ask  pity,  and  none  to 
need  succor.  Here  is  one  great  end 
which  we  may  believe  to  have  been 
subserved  by  the  substitution  of  sterility 
fir  fruitful ness  in  the  soil.  The  poor 
are  in  the  land,  and  cannot  cease  out 
of  the  land  whilst  the  earth  remains 
under  the  original  curse.  And  thus, 
by  presenting  perpetual  occasions  for 
the  exercise  of  brotherly  love,  God  has 
done  the  utmost  to  provide  against  that 
induration  of  heart,  that  contraction  of 
feeling,  and  that  centering  of  all  one's 
thoughts  in  one's  self,  which  are  amongst 
the  worst  symptoms  of  moral  degene- 
racy,  and  the  worst  earnests  of  final 
condemnation.  The  ordinance  that  in 
the  sweat  of  his  face  must  man  eat 
bread,  secures  a  continual  succession 
of  objects  of  sympathy,  leaving  selfish- 
ness without  excuse,  inasmuch  as  those 
who  suffer  least  from  the  curse  are  so- 


licited on  all  sides  to  show  compassion 
to  those  who  suffer  more. 

And  here  it  should  be  observed,  in 
strict  connexion  with  our  subject  of 
discourse,  that  there  is  falseness  in  the 
very  common  opinion  which  would 
make  labor  altogether  the  result  of  sin, 
as  though,  if  men  had  never  fallen,  they 
would  have  had  no  need  of  industry. 
It  is  true,  that  whatsoever  there  be' of 
painful  in  labor,  should  be  ascribed  to 
sin,  and  would  not  have  existed  had  the 
world  continued  innocent.  But  labor 
itself  was  the  ordinance  of  God  whilst 
man  was  in  Paradise.  That  beautiful 
garden,  over  which  there  had  yet  pass- 
ed no  blight,  required  to  be  dressed, 
and  Adam  was  directed  to  till  and  to 
keep  it.  No  doubt  the  soil,  not  yet  strick- 
en by  the  curse  of  its  Maker,  would  not 
ask  the  sweat  of  man's  face  before  it 
yielded  him  bread;  but  neither  was  the 
corn  to  spring  spontaneously  forth  ;  it 
demanded  culture,  and  so  forbade  idle- 
ness. The  curse  provoked  by  disobedi- 
ence was  not  the  curse  of  labm-,  but  the 
curse  of  painful  labor;  "in  sorrow  shalt 
thou  eat  of  it  all  the  days  of  thy  life." 
It  is  not,  then,  in  his  fallen  state  alone, 
that  industry  is  required  of  man  ;  it 
may  more  properly  be  said  to  be  the 
law  imposed  upon  every  creature ;  so 
that  of  whatsoever  God  hath  made  in 
earth,  sea,  and  air,  He  hath  made  no- 
thing to  be  idle.  Employment  in  some 
shape  or  another  would  seem  appointed 
to  every  living  thing  ;  the  highest  of 
Heaven's  angels  has  his  duties  to  fulfil, 
and  the  meanest  of  earth's  insects  must 
be  busy  or  perish.  Even  the  inanimate 
creation,  as  some  of  the  old  Fathers 
have  observed,  may  be  said  to  preach 
to  us  against  idleness,  and  to  represent 
tons  its  ruinous  effects.  "All  nature 
is  upheld  in  its  being,  order,  and  state, 
by  constant  agitation;"  it  is  the  run- 
ning water  which  keeps  fresh,  the  air 
fanned  by  winds  which  is  wholesome, 
the  metal  that  is  in  use  which  does  not 
rust.  And,  therefore,  according  to  the 
whole  drift  of  our  discourse,  though  the 
amount  and  character  of  the  laboi  re- 
quired from  man  have  been  greatly 
changed  through  the  entrance  of  sin, 
there  can  be  no  question  that  there  was 
more  of  blessing  than  of  curse  in  the 
edict  which  took  the  first  fruitfulness 
from  the  ground.  There  has  been 
hence  imposed  upon  the  world  a  general 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CUUSE. 


291 


necessity  for  industry  ;  and  in  a  world 
corrupted  by  sin,  it  could  not,  we  argue, 
have  safely  been  left  optional  with  men 
whether  or  not  they  would  work;  their 
own  welfare  demanded  that  industry 
should  be  indispensable  to  the  warding 
off  starvation.  We  find,  then,  in  the 
appointment  announced  by  our  text, 
extraordinary  evidence  of  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  God:  man's  due  place 
in  creation  was  only  to  be  preserved 
through  the  surrounding  with  difficulties 
the  preservation  of  life ;  and  the  readiest 
way  of  sinking  him  to  the  level  of  the 
brute,  would  have  been  the  supplying 
his  wants  in  the  same  way  as  those  of 
the  brute  are  supplied.  Nor  are  other 
considerations  wanting  which  lead  to 
the  same  conclusion.  It  is  industry 
alone  which  will  preserve  any  thing  like 
a  healthful  contentment  in  our  spirits  ; 
the  unemployed  man  is  always  dissatis- 
fied and  restless ;  time  is  a  burden  : 
after  all,  he  is  forced  to  be  industrious, 
industrious  -in  squandering  what  he 
will  live  to  regret  his  not  improving. 
Indeed,  he  labors  most  who  labors  least: 
the  man  who  seeks  only  ease  should 
seek  it  through  labor;  for  "  sloth,  which 
hateth  labor  and  trouble,  doth  by  hating, 
incur  them."  God  has  so  constituted 
us,  that  the  being  occupied  dissipates 
dull  humors  from  the  mind,  keeps  the 
various  faculties  in  vigorous  play,  and, 
even  if  it  exhaust  us,  brings  sweet  and 
undisturbed  repose.  Industry,  more- 
over, is  ordinarily  followed  by  rewards; 
the  industrious  are  seldom  baffled  in 
their  pursuits ;  they  are  generally  the 
men  who  attain  the  greatest  measure  of 
what  passes  as  desirable;  and  when 
wealth  or  honor  flows  in  upon  a  man, 
through  God's  blessing  on  his  industry, 
it  is  incomparably  sweeter  to  him  than 
if  he  had  derived  it  from  another — the 
treasure  which  himself  hath  acquired,  is 
vastly  more  precious  than  if  ancestors 
had  bequeathed  it;  the  nobility  achiev- 
ed by  his  own  actions,  immeasurably 
more  gratifying,  than  if  it  had  descend- 
ed through  a  long  line  of  peers. 

And  whi'st  so  much  may  be  said  on 
the  advantages  of  industry — on  the 
blessing  which  is  hidden  in  the  curse 
of  our  text — there  are  not  wanting  ex- 
amples and  patterns  to  urge  to  the  cul- 
ture of  this  virtue,  the  parent,  as  we 
might  call  it,  of  every  other,  or,  indeed, 
a  main  ingredient  in  every  other.    Turn 


where  you  will,  and  all  is  industry  :  look 
into  the  histories  of  the  illustrious,  and 
all  is  industry.  That  God  blessed  man 
in  cursing  the  ground,  this  seems  breath- 
ed from  things  animate  and  inanimate, 
from  the  highest  orders  of  being  and 
from  the  lowest,  from  priests,  and  apos- 
tles, and  sages,  and  heroes,  yea,  from 
the  Redeemer,  from  the  Divinity  him- 
self. Harken  to  the  voice  of  the  un- 
wearied sun,  who,  day  by  day,  cometh 
forth  from  his  chamber,  rejoicing  as  a 
strong  man  to  run  a  race.  Hearken  to 
the  speech  of  the  waters  in  their  cease- 
less rise  and  fall,  to  the  language  of 
nature  in  all  her  laboratories,  in  all  her 
processes.  Listen  for  a  message  from 
angels,  who  rest  not  night  nor  day,  sing- 
ing the  praises,  and  executing  the  com- 
mandments of  their  Maker.  And  then 
shut  not  the  ear  to  the  eloquence  of  ex- 
ample; but  suffer  yourselves  to  be  ad- 
dressed by  Him  who  "  never  slumber- 
eth,  nor  sleepeth,"  by  Him  again  "who 
went  about  doing  good,"  by  those  who 
were  "instant  in  season,  out  of  season," 
by  the  excellent,  the  illustrious,  whether 
of  the  past  or  of  the  present.  What  is  the 
universal  call  1  what  the  lesson,  for  the 
syllabling  of  which  the  whole  system 
and  order  of  creation  appears  to  have 
grown  vocal,  which  the  speechless  arti- 
culate, the  silent  publish,  the  dead 
preach  1  Ah !  there  are  no  words  which 
find  more  utterances,  none  which  may  be 
more  distinctly  heard,  by  the  ear  of  rea- 
son, from  every  planet  in  its  everlasting 
march,  from  every  process  of  vegetation, 
from  every  spirit  before  God's  throne, 
from  every  insect  as  it  walks  its  little 
span,  and  from  every  sepulchre  which 
holds  the  dust  of  the  good,  than  those 
which  recommend  and  inculcate  indus- 
try— but  words  which  praise  industry, 
prove  that  God  was  appointing  a  bless- 
ing, though  in  the  form  of  a  curse,  when 
He  said  to  our  first  parent,  "In  the 
sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread." 
And  if  you  search  for  an  apt  exhibi- 
tion of  assiduous  and  successful  indus- 
try, you  have  it  in  that  noble  Corpora- 
tion whose  representatives  are  now  as- 
sembled in  this  place.  The  edict  which 
took  its  first  fruitfulness  from  the  soil, 
left  one  land  in  possession  of  one  pro- 
duce, another  of  another.  What  mercy, 
then,  was  mingled  with  the  judgment! 
If  every  land  had  produced  the  same 
things,  and  with  the  same  ease,  there 


292 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE. 


would  have  been  no  scope  for  com-  j 
merce ;  and  without  commerce,  the  dif- 
ferent tribes  of  men  would  have  had 
little  or  no  intercourse  :  strangers  to 
each  other,  if  not  enemies,  they  would 
have  known  nothing  of  the  bond  of  uni- 
versal brotherhood.  So  then  commerce, 
with  all  its  humanizing  tendencies — for 
they  are  vastly  mistaken  who  regard 
commerce  as  the  mere  machine  of  ava- 
rice and  luxury — it  may  subserve  the 
noblest  purposes,  circumnavigating  the 
globe  to  diffuse  every  where  kindly  sen- 
timents, the  precious  truths  of  science, 
the  immeasurably  more  precious  of 
Christianity — commerce,  then,  with  all 
its  humanizing  tendencies,  has  sprung 
from  that  cursing  of  the  ground  which 
is  recorded  in  our  text.  But  what  in- 
dustry is  needed  for  the  successful  pro- 
secution of  commerce  !  What  mighty 
results  have  sprung  from  man's  being 
doomed  to  eat  bread  in  the  sweat  of  his 
face !  The  stately  ship,  the  sublime 
searchings  of  astronomy,  the  triumphs 
of  the  engineer  in  the  lighthouse  and 
the  chart,  the  mastery  of  the  elements, 
the  creation  of  a  new  power  which  may 
be  almost  said  to  bridle  the  winds  and 
waves,  and  make  man  supreme  on  the 
deep  as  on  the  land — all  are  to  be 
traced  to  that  sentence  upon  Adam,  of 
which  some  would  complain  as  breath- 
ing only  wrath. 

And  the  Corporation  here  assembled, 
is  but  the  embodying  of  these  various 
achievements  of  industry.  Under  the 
headship  of  one  whose  unweariedness 
in  labor  has  been,  and  is,  his  country's 
safeguard,  this  Corporation  spreads  its 
shield  over  commerce.  The  chart,  the 
beacon,  the  buoy,  the  pilot,  it  is  assidu- 
ous in  providing  all  these,  that  the  mari- 
ner may  have  every  possible  aid  in  pro- 
secuting his  adventurous  course.  Long 
may  it  continue  its  beneficent  labors. 
If  it  seem  strange  that  a  Corporation 
such  as  this,  combining  the  illustrious 
by  deed,  the  noble  by  birth,  the  fore- 
most in  trade,  the  lofty  in  science,  should 
have  actually  arisen  from  the  maledic- 
tion on  the  earth  when  its  days  were 
yet  few,  at  least  let  us  admire  the  Pro- 
vidence of  God  which  hath  overruled 
for  good  what  bore  the  air  of  unmingled 
disaster;  let  us  pray  that  navigation 
may  continue  to  receive  this  fostering 
care,  till  its  noblest  ends  shall  have  all 
been  fulfilled,  till,  in  the  old  age  of  the 


world,  ships  shall  have  borne  to  every 
land  the  glad  tidings  of  the  Gospel,  and 
"the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover 
the  seas." 

The  great  lesson,  then,  which  we 
learn  from  the  text  is,  that  industry  is 
honorable  and  beneficial ;  that  the  Al- 
mighty was  blessing  us  when  He  made 
labor  our  inheritance.  Let  all  apply 
the  lesson,  ceasing  to  repine  where  we 
ought  rather  to  be  grateful,  and  deter- 
mining to  be  mote  diligent  than  ever  in 
performing  the  duties  alloted  us  by  God. 
Even  this  Corporation  may  take  the 
lesson.  It  has  but  to  relax  its  industry, 
and  a  navy  may  perish.  If  it.  were  to 
grow  remiss  in  its  high  functions,  the 
sunken  rocks,  the  treacherous  quick- 
sands, would  soon  be  the  scenes  of 
frightful  tragedies;  or  those  worse  foes 
to  seamen  than  rocks  or  quicksands — 
ignorant  or  drunken  pilots — yes,  let 
pilots  hear  that  ;  worse  are  they  than  the 
rock,  worse  than  the  quicksand,  if  they 
be  ignorant  or  drunken — these  would 
soon  multiply,  and  make  playthings  of 
the  life  and  property  of  thousands. 

But  we  have  no  fears  that  this  Cor- 
poration will  relax  in  its  industry.  Let 
us  rather,  in  conclusion,  speak  of  the 
industry  required  from  all  in  their  spi- 
ritual capacity,  as  Christians,  as  candi- 
dates for  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  It  is 
not  the  representation  of  Scripture,  how- 
ever it  may  be  the  imagination  of  num- 
bers, that  religion  is  an  easy  thing,  so  that 
immortality  maybe  secured  with  no  great 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  sinner.  The 
Christian  life  is  likened  to  a  battle  in 
which  we  may  be  defeated,  to  a  race 
in  which  we  may  be  outstripped,  to  a 
stewardship  in  which  we  may  be  un- 
faithful. Who  indeed,  that  thinks  for  &. 
moment  on  the  virtues  required  frorr 
us  as  Christians, — charity,  temperance 
meekness,  patience,  humilily,  content- 
ment,— will  imagine  that  a  believet 
may  be  idle,  finding  nothing  in  his  spi 
ritual  calling  to  exercise  diligence 
These  virtues,  we  may  venture  to  say 
are  al!  against  nature,  only  to  be  acquir- 
ed through  strife  with  ourselves,  and 
preserved  by  constant  war.  And  though 
Divine  grace  alone  can  enable  us  whe- 
ther to  acquire  or  preserve,  it  does  not 
supersede  our  owi:  efforts  ;  it  makes 
those  efforts  effectual,  but  never  works 
in  us  but  by  and  through  ourselves. 


THE  BLESSING  IN  THE  CURSE. 


293 


Be  then  industrious  in  religion;  we 
can  tolerate  indolence  anywhere  rather 
than  here, — here  where  Eternity  is  at 
stake, — here  where  an  hour's  sluggish- 
ness may  be  fatal.  We  have  no  respect, 
indeed,  for  the  indolent  man,  let  his  in- 
dolence show  itself  in  what  form  it  may. 
One  of  your  idlers,  who  sleeps  away 
life,  doing  listlessly  what  he  is  compelled 
to  do,  and  only  pleased  when  he  can  be 
left  undisturbed,  hardly  deserves  the 
name  of  man, — man's  characteristic  is 
restlessness;  restlessness  foretells  his  im- 
mortality; and  the  sluggard,  by  his  apa- 
thy, seems  to  destroy  the  mark,  and 
silence  the  prophecy.  But,  if  contempt- 
ible in  other  things,  indolence  may  not 
be  actually  fatah:  the  indolent  man  may 
have  wealth  which  secures  him  against 
want ;  and  by  the  occasional  exercise 
of  rare  talents,  he  may  even  in  spite  of 
habitual  sluggishness,  attain  to  some 
measure  of  distinction.  But  an  indolent 
Christian, — it  is  a  sort  of  contradiction  ; 
Christianity  is  industry  spiritualized  : 
the  sluggard  in  religion  would  be  a 
sluggard  in  escaping  from  the  burning 
house,  or  the  sinking  ship, — but  who 
ever  loitered  when  death  was  at  his 
heels  1 

Let  us  work,  then,  "  while  it  is  called 


to-day ;  "  "  the  night  cometh  when  no 
man  can  work."  The  sentence  of  our 
text  has  gone  forth,  and  all  must  sub- 
mit, "  dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou 
shalt  return."  There  is  no  exemption 
for  greatness,  none  for  goodness.  The 
path  of  glory,  the  path  of  science,  the 
path  of  usefulness,  all  alike  terminate 
in  the  grave.  The  time  is  at  hand  when 
all  of  us,  though  widely  separated  in 
earthly  circumstaHces,  must  lie  down 
together  in  the  dust.  But  if  dust  we 
are,  and  unto  dust  we  must  return,  im- 
mortal also  we  are,  and  over  us  death 
hath  no  abiding  power.  We  will  not, 
then,  repine  that  sin  hath  brought  death 
into  the  world;  we  will  rejoice  that 
Christ  hath  brought  "  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light  by  his  Gospel."  Ship- 
wrecked we  must  be ;  life  is  but  a  voy- 
age, and  every  barque  sinks  at  last,  a 
broken  and  dislocated  thing.  But  we 
have  but  to  steer  by  the  chart  of  the 
Gospel,  and  take  as  our  pole-star  the 
Redeemer,  which  is  Christ,  and  the 
shattered  vessels  shall  yet  be  found 
floating  in  the  haven  where  we  would 
be  :  body  and  soul  are  reserved  alike 
for  glorious  destiny  ;  the  corruptible 
shall  put  on  incorruption,  the  mortal 
immortality. 


294 


THE  SHITWRECK. 


SERMON   V 


THE  SHIPWRECK. 


But  the  Lord  sent  out  a  great  wind  into  the  sea,  and  there  was  a  mighty  tempest  in  the  sea,  so  that  the  ship  was 
like  to  be  broken.  Then  the  mariners  were  afraid,  and  cried  every  man  unto  his  god,  and  cast  forth  the  wares 
that  were  in  the  ship  into  the  sea,  to  lighten  it  of  them.  But  Jouah  was  gone  down  into  the  sides  of  the  ship ;  and 
lie  lay,  and  was  fast  asleep." — Jonah  i.  4,  5. 


You  will  probably  all  remember  bow 
it  came  to  pass  tbat  Jonab  was  brougbt 
into  these  perilous  circumstances.  In 
his  character  of  a  prophet,  he  had  re- 
ceived directions  from  God  to  hasten  to 
Nineveh,  and  to  announce  the  near  ruin 
of  that  mighty  and  idolatrous  capital. 
But  Jonab  probably  thought  that  he 
should  be  treated  with  insult,  if  not  put 
to  death,  by  the  Ninevites  :  he,  there- 
fore, resolved  to  disobey,  and,  embark- 
ing in  a  ship  bound  for  Tarshish,  direc- 
ted his  course  to  the  opposite  quarter 
from  tbat  enjoined  him  by  God.  But 
God  had  his  eye  on  his  rebellious  ser- 
vant, and  would  not  surfer  him  to 
proceed  undisturbed  in  transgression. 
Lord  as  He  is  of  the  elements,  so  that 
He  "  bringeth  the  wind  out  of  his  trea- 
sures," He  could  raise  a  sudden  and 
mighty  tempest,  and  thus  effectually 
intercept  the  disobedient  Prophet.  And 
this,  we  read,  He  did ;  the  storm  which 
overtook  the  vessel  being  evidently  of 
no  ordinary  kind,  but  such  as  forced  the 
mariners  to  a  conviction,  that,  from  some 
cause  or  another,  the  anger  of  an  in- 
censed Deity  pursued  them. 

Now  if  it  were  in  the  power  of  cir- 
cumstances to  make  men  religious,  there 
is  no  class  of  persons  with  whom  we 
might  expect  to  find  more  of  piety  than 
with  mariners,  those  who  "  go  down  to 
the  sea  in  ships,  and  occupy  their  busi- 
ness in  great  waters."  Well  might  the 
Psalmist  say,  and  the  hearts  of  many  in 
this  assembly  can  respond  to  the  words, 
«'  These  men  see  the  works  of  the  Lord, 


*  Preached  before  the  Corporation  of  Trinity 
House,  on  Trinity  Monday,  1846. 


and  his  wonders  in  the  deep."  There 
is  no  portion  of  the  globe  so  wonderful 
in  its  manifestation  of  divinity  as  the 
ocean.  Whether  it  sleep  beautifully  in 
the  tranquilities  of  an  unbroken  calm, 
or  be  wrought  by  the  hurricane  into 
madness,  it  is  a  more  stupendous  ob- 
ject, wakening  sublimer  thoughts,  and 
prompting  to  loftier  musings,  than  the 
most  glorious  combination  of  valley  and 
mountain. 

If,  then,  any  part  of  this  creation  is 
to  bring  men  into  acquaintance  with  the 
Creator,  to  teach  them  his  greatness  and 
awfulness,  and  to  prevail  with  them  to 
inquire  how  his  favor  may  be  gained,  it 
must,  we  should  think,  be  the  sea  :  to  that 
page  may  natural  theology  best  point, 
when  it  would  show  characters  which 
publish  God's  might;  to  that  mirror  may 
it  best  look,  when  it  would  catch  the  re- 
flection of  an  invisible  Ruler.  But  it  is 
comparatively  little  that  the  waters  of  the 
great  deep  thus  preach  of  a  Divinity  ;  it 
is  not  difficult  for  the  human  mind  to  close 
itself  against  the  strongest  notices  which 
creation  can  give  of  a  Creator.  Con- 
sider, then,  for  a  moment,  the  dangers 
of  the  sea,  the  perils  which  encompass 
those  who  live  upon  its  surges — dangers 
and  perils  not  always  to  be  escaped, 
even  where  the  noble  Corporation  be 
fore  which  I  speak,  has  lighted  its  bea- 
cons, and  fastened  its  buoys.  Well, 
again,  hath  the  Psalmist  said,  "They 
mount  up  to  the  heaven,  they  go  down 
again  to  the  depths,  their  soul  is  melted 
because  of  trouble.  They  reel  to  and 
fro,  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man, 
and  are  at  their  wits's  end."     The  life 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 


295 


of  a  sailor  is  a  life  of  constant  risk.    He 
cannot  reckon  for  an  hour  on  the  secu- 
rity of  the  frail   vessel  in  which   he   is 
embarked  ;  the  sky,  now  serene,  may 
be   overcast  with  clouds  ;  the   teiMpest 
may  be  upon  him,  as  a  giant  in  his  fury; 
and  in  spite  of  his  courage  and  seaman- 
ship, he   may  be  thrown  as  a  plaything 
to  the  waves,  his  ship  rent  into  a  thou- 
sand   shreds,   and    himself  and    all  his 
comrades  struggling  vainly  with  death. 
But  though  it  be  thus  certain  that  the 
ocean  is  woudrously  adapted,  both  by 
its   magnificence    and  dangers,  to  lead 
those  conversant  with  it  to  a  knowledge 
and  'fear  of  their  Creator,  is  it  not  the 
fact  that  there  is,  at  least,  as  little  of 
seriousness  of  thought,  and  of  prepara- 
tion for  death,  in  men  whose  business  is 
on  the  waters,  as  in  others  who  have  no 
such   marvels  to    behold,  and  no   such 
perils  to  encounter  ?     Without  design- 
ing to  charge  a  special  want  of  religion 
on  any  one  class  of  men,  we  may  say 
of  sailors  generally,  that  they  are  strik- 
ing illustrations  of  the  powerlessness  of 
circumstances  to  make  men  religious  ; 
for  conversant  as  they  are  with  what  is 
grandest  in  the  workmanship  of  God, 
and  almost  momentarily  in  evident  jeo- 
pardy of  their  lives,  they  are  not,  per- 
haps, as  a  body,  more  mindful  of  their 
Maker,  nor  more  provident  for  eternity, 
than  if  there  were  nothing  in  their  con- 
dition to  induce  devotional  habits.     If 
there  were  any  scene  on  which  natural 
religion    might  be  expected    to  win    a 
triumph,  any  individual  whom  it  might 
be  expected  to  subdue,  that  scene,  un- 
doubtedly, is   the  ocean,  when  tossing 
its   billows  to  the  sky,  and  that  individ- 
ual is  the  mariner  whom  it  threatens  to 
overwhelm.     But  the  general  habits  of 
a  seafaring  population  prove  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  natural  religion,  of  that  reli- 
gion which  has  nothing  but  the  volume 
of  creation  for  its   Bible,  and  nothing 
but   conscience  for  its  preacher.     The 
ocean  itself  does  not  practically  reveal 
a  God  to  those  best  acquainted  with  its 
wonders,  and  conscience  itself  does  not 
work    true    repentance    in    those   most 
scared    by    its    terrors.      In    vain    doth 
Deity  glass,  as  it  were,  his  eternity  in  the 
vast  mirror  of  the  waters :  in  vain  doth  He 
come  riding,  magnificently  but  terribly, 
on  the  whirlwind ;  the  mariner  can  look 
ou  the  waves  in  their  gloriousness,  and 


be  menaced  by  them  in  their  fury,  and, 
nevertheless,  remain  in  utter  ignorance 
of  God,  or  open  defiance  of  his  laws. 

The  crew  of  the  ship  in  which  Jonah 
sailed,  may  be   referred    to   in  evidence 
of  this.      They  were  a  crew  of  idolaters, 
every  man,  apparently,  having   a  differ- 
ent deity;  for  you  observe  that  it  is  said 
in  our  text,  "  The  mariners  were  afraid, 
and    cried    every    man    unto  his   god." 
They  were  not  deficient  in  courage  or 
seamanship  :  they   took  vigorous  mea- 
sures for  their  safety,  forgetting,  when 
life  was  in   danger,  what  was,  perhaps, 
only  second   to   it  in  their  esteem,  and 
casting  away  their  cargo  that  the  vessel 
might  be  lightened.     But  in  their  appli- 
cations to  an  invisible  power,  they  be- 
trayed   all  the   absurdities  of  the  very 
worst  idolatry  ;  for  every  man  had  his 
own  god  to  address,  so  that  there  was 
nothing  less  than  a  Babel  of  worship. 
It  was  not,  of  course,  in  this  moment, 
of  fear  and  perplexity  that  the  several 
individuals  imagined  or  selected  a  deity. 
They  had,  probably,  been  idolaters  from 
their  youth ;  and  now  that  they  seemed 
given  over  to  death,  each  had  nothing- 
better  to  do  than  cry  to  that  fabulous 
being,  which,  from  some  cause  or  an- 
other, he  had  chosen  as  his  own.     But 
if  ever  the  ocean  was  to  have  given  back 
to  those  who  sailed  upon  its  bosom  the 
image  of  the  one  true  God,  might  it  not 
have  been  expected  to  have  done  so  to 
men  who  each   worshipped   a  different 
divinity  ]  for  what  could   be  a  greater 
practical    demonstration    to    them    that 
their  religion  was  false,  than  that  they 
all  disagreed  as  to  who  God  was  1   and 
if  their  religion  was  false,  if  their  deities 
were   deceits,  what  more  to  have  been 
looked  for  than  that  they  should  have 
sought  afresh  for  the  invisible,  but  Om- 
nipotent    Being,     who     "  holdeth     the 
waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,"  and 
"  hath  his  way  in  the  whirlwind  and  the 
storm  1  "     But   no — they    voyaged    to- 
gether over  the   mighty  expanse  ;  they 
had  evidence  of  the  falseness  of  their 
religion  forced  on  them  by  its  diversity  ; 
the  waters  continually  preached  to  them 
of  God,  preached  to  them  in  the  calm  and 
in  the  tempest;  but  so  practically  power- 
less is  natural  religion,  even  under  the 
most  favorable  circumstances,  that,  when 
they  came  into  danger,  and  had  to  ap- 
peal to  Deity  to  shield  them  from  death 


296 


THE    SHIPWRECK. 


they  were  still  found  to  be  idolaters, 
idolaters  who  "stood  self-convicted  of  the 
folly  of  idolatry. 

And  if  all  this  be  true,  if,  notwith- 
standing the  magnificent  imagery  of  God 
which  is  continually  around  him,  and 
the  perils  hy  which  he  is  encompassed, 
the  sailor  is  apt  to  think  little  of  the 
duties  of  religion,  how  important,  how 
unspeakably  important,  the  office  of 
that  Corporation  in  whose  presence  I 
speak  !  It  is  not  merely  property  of 
which  you  are  the  guardians — though 
commerce  may  be  said  to  commit  its 
treasures  to  your  care ;  nay  it  is  not 
merely  life — though  your  lighthouses, 
your  charts,  and  your  pilots,  preserve, 
under  God,  the  thousands  who  navigate 
our  intricate  channels  ;  it  is  immortality 
itself,  over  which  you  keep  watch.  It 
is  the  soul  for  which  burns  that  lonely 
spark,  in  the  darkest  night  and  amid 
the  fiercest  storm.  You  guard  the  sea- 
man in  his  years  of  carelessness,  and 
perhaps  even  profligacy,  that  opportu- 
nity may  be  granted  him  (O  God,  grant 
that  it  be  not  given  in  vain  !)  of  yet 
avoiding  that  last  shipwreck,  when  the 
6ensual,  and  the  careless,  and  the  proud, 
shall  be  broken  by  the  breath  of  the  Al- 
mighty's displeasure. 

But  it  is  time  that  we  pass  from  con- 
sidering what  relates  to  the  conduct  of 
the  crew,  to  the  examining  what  is  told 
us  of  Jonah,  in  this  hour  of  imminent 
peril.  Jonah  had,  perhaps,  more  cause 
than  any  other  in  the  vessel  to  be  dis- 
turbed, and  filled  with  apprehension  by 
the  storm;  and  we  might  have  expected 
to  find  him  the  most  earnest  in  crying 
for  deliverance.  Yet  strange  to  say,  he 
was  .  "  gone  down  into  the  sides  of  the 
ship,  and  was  fast  asleep,"  so  that  the 
shipmaster  had  roughly  to  awaken  him, 
in  order  to  make  him  sensible  of  the 
danger.  A  singular  contrast — he,  a 
worshipper  of  the  true  God,  though 
actually  endeavoring  to  flee  from  his 
presence,  manifested  utter  insensibility 
in  perilous  circumstances  ;  whilst  even 
idolaters,  who  were  not,  perhaps,  at  the 
time  chargeable  with  extraordinary  sin, 
did  all  that  a  false  religion  could  teach 
them,  and  sought  help  from  invisible 
powers.  And  was  it  not  the  severest 
rebuke  which  could  have  been  adminis- 
tered to  a  servant  of. Jehovah,  that  a 
heathen,  an  idolater,  should  rouse  him 


from  his  sleep,  and  urge  upon  him  the 
duty  of  making  supplications  to  his  god  ] 
If  another  of  the  servants  of  the  true 
God  had  come  to  him,  and  addressed 
him  in  the  startling  terms,  "  What  mean- 
est thou,  O  sleeper1?  arise,  call  upon  thy 
God,"  the  rebuke  would  have  been  com- 
paratively nothing,  though  even  then 
full  of  just  bitterness/  But  that  one 
who  knew  no  religion  but  a  false  should 
summon  to  duty,  and  reprove  for  its 
neglect,  a  man  instructed  in  truth,  and 
professedly  dedicated  to  the  service  of 
the  one  living  God, — this  indeed  was 
severe  and  stern  upbraiding;  if  any 
thing  could  make  Jonah  feel,  it  must 
have  been,  we  think,  the  being  thus  ad- 
dressed by  a  Pagan. 

And  are  we  to  draw  no  lesson  from 
this  part  of  the  narrative  ]  Is  there 
nothing  uttered  in  the  present  day, 
analogous  to  the  remonstrance  of  the 
shipmaster,  by  the  heathen  to  Chris- 
tians 1  We  never  question  (who  can 
justly  question])  that  the  zeal  with 
which  Pagans  serve  their  idols,  and 
the  readiness  with  which  they  often 
submit  to  the  austerities  prescribed  by 
superstition,  will  rise  up  hereafter  in 
judgment  against  multitudes  in  a  Chris- 
tian land,  who  neglect  the  true  God, 
though  clearly  revealed,  and  shrink  from 
his  service,  though  that  service  is  free- 
dom. The  very  heathen  put  us  to  shame, 
for  they  will  manifest  a  most  devoted 
earnestness  in  what  they  count  religious 
duties,  and  will  be  actually  unwearied 
in  their  endeavors  to  propitiate  the  un- 
known powers  whom  they  suppose  the 
arbiters  of  their  fate  ;  whilst  we, 
j  blessed  with  ample  discoveries  of  the 
Ruler  of  the  universe,  and  taught  the 
only  method  of  gaining  his  favor,  are 
apt  to  count  the  least  sacrifice  excessive, 
and  to  display  no  result  of  the  being 
emancipated  from  superstition,  but  the 
being  indifferent  to  religion. 

"  Woe  unto  thee,  Chorazin  !  woe 
unto  thee,  Bethsaida  !  for  if  the  mighty 
works  which  have  been  done  in  you 
had  been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  they 
would  have  repented  long  ago  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes."  It  is  no  unfair  infer- 
ence, from  the  assiduousness  with  which 
the  heathen  will  often  act  up  to  their 
scanty  measure  of  light,  that,  had  they 
been  privileged  with  a  greater,  with  the 
measure,  for  example,  vouchsafed  to  our 


THE    SHIPWRECK. 


297 


selves,  they  would  have  far  exceeded  us 
in  obedience,  in  the  performance  of  those 
duties  which  Revelation  makes  obliga- 
tory on  those   blessed  with  its   beams. 
Assuredly,  then,  there  will  be  no  need 
of  other  witnesses  against  us,  in  order  to 
ensure  an  aggravated  condemnation,  if 
from  the  islands  and  continents  of  the 
earth,  on  which  there  has  not  shined  the 
light  of  the  Gospel,  there  is  to  issue  a 
throng,  whose  actions  will  be  evidence, 
that   more  had  been   done  where  only 
little  had  been   given,  than  where  God 
had  been  largest  in  discovery  and  assist- 
ance.    Will   it  not  suffice  to  make  the 
Christian,   who  has   failed   to    improve 
his  superior  advantages,  shrink  away  in 
the  consciousness  that  he  must  have  to 
bear  a  sentence  of  unusual  severity,  if 
there  be  arrayed  against  him  the  emi- 
nent of  the  heathen,   men  who  sought 
painfully  and  incessantly  for  truth,  amid 
the  mysterious  shadows  with  which  they 
were  encompassed,  and  who  were  wil- 
ling to  endure  any  hardship,  or  attempt 
any  duty,  which  they  thought  prescribed 
by  the    deities  in  whose  existence  they 
believed  1 

It  is   in  this   way,  and  without    any 
forced  attempt  at   instituting  a  parallel, 
that  we  may  regard  the  heathen  as  act- 
ing towards  Christians  the  very  part  of 
the  shipmaster  towards   Jonah.     Why 
may  we  not  liken  the  whole  globe  to  a 
vessel  tossing  on  a  stormy  sea?   for  is 
there  a  solitary  one,  amongst  all  its  inhab- 
itants, who  is  not  in  danger  of  shipwreck ; 
embarked   on   dark  waters,  and  carried 
on  by  a  resistless  current,  towards  an  un- 
known shore,  where,  but  too  probably, 
he   may   be    a    castaway   for  eternity  ] 
And  may   we  not  say  of  the  crew  of 
this  mighty  ship,  that   every   man   has 
his   god,  there   being  as  St.  Paul  hath 
said,    "  gods  many,  and    lords    many," 
though    there    be,  in    reality,    but    one 
Creator  and  Ruler,  and  "  one  Mediator 
between  God  and  man  ]  "     But  who, 
of  all  the  mariners,  are  most  assiduous 
in  their  endeavors  to  get  safe  to  land  1 
Are  the  worshippers  of  the  true  God 
conspicuous  above  the  worshippers  of 
idols,   by  their  fervency  in  prayer,  by 
their    strenuousness    of    effort  ]       May 
they    be    distinguished  by   the   greater 
sense  which  they  manifest  of  exposure 
to  danger,  and  by  their  greater  diligence 
in  using  all  such  means  of  deliverance 
as    have    been     furnished   them    from 

VOL  II. 


above  ?     On  the  contrary,  are  not  thou- 
sands of  them  sunk  in  the  deepest  moral 
apathy,  engrossed  with  petty  concerns, 
caring  apparently  for  nothing  but  perish- 
able good,  though  momentarily  in  dan- 
ger of  being  plunged  headlong  into  the 
waves]      And    are    there    not,    on   the 
other  hand,  many  of  the  slaves  of  idol* 
atry,  who  are  striving,  might  and  main, 
to  turn  from   them   the  anger  of  some 
imagined     divinity,    wearying    Heaven 
with  petitions,  and  wearing  themselves 
down   with   toils,  so  as  not  only  to  re- 
prove the    indolent    and  careless  of  a 
Christian  community,  but  even  to  ad- 
monish the  most  earnest  to  take  heed 
that  they  be  not  outdone  in  diligence  ? 
But  if  it  be  true,   that,   as    the   vast 
vessel  rises  and  falls  on  the  boisterous 
surges,    there     are    found    amongst    its 
crew  the  heathen,  who  are  praying  and 
struggling  for  deliverance,  and  the  Chris- 
tians, who  are  supine  and  insensible  to 
danger,  what,   we  ask    of  you,  are  the 
one  but  the  idolatrous  shipmaster,  what 
the  other  but  the  Prophet  of  God  ?   the 
shipmaster   doing   all  that  his  seaman- 
ship, and  his  knowledge  of  a  Supreme 
Being,  could  suggest;  the  prophet  buri- 
ed  in  deep   slumber,  and  without  care 
for  the  peril.     As   there   are  borne  to 
the   Christian,    in  his  sluggishness  and 
neglect  of  many  privileges,  tidings  how 
the  heathen  will  lacerate  the  limbs,  and 
dare  bravely  long  penance,  in  hopes  of 
shunning  the  danger  of  which  beseems 
to  make  no  account,  what  is  to  be  said, 
if  not  that  the  shipmaster  is  again  upon 
Jonah,  fast  asleep  in  the  side  of  the  ves- 
sel, and  crying  to  him  in  a  voice  whose 
echoes  will   be  heard  amid  all   the  stir 
of    final    judgment,    "  What    meanest 
thou,  O    sleeper  ]    arise  and  call  upon 
thy    God  ] "     Need    we    do    what    the 
mariners  did,  have  recourse  to  the  lot, 
in  order  to  determine  the  guilty  party  I 
We  suspect  not.     The  character  is  of 
such  common  occurrence,  that  perhaps 
many  in  the  present  assembly  may  be 
conscious    of  the    likeness.      After    all 
their    entreaty,    and    all    their   remon- 
strance,   the    ministers    of    Christ    are 
still  forced  to  believe,  that  if  they  go 
down  to  the  sides  of  the  ship,  they  shall 
find  many  fast  locked  in  sleep,  requiring 
to  be  addressed  in  the  rough  words  of 
the    shipmaster,   though,    alas  !    by    no 
means  sure  to  be  roused  by  the  sum- 
mons.    We  must  search  them  out :  for 


298 


THE    SHIPWRECK. 


like  Jonah,  they  may  not  be  on  the 
deck  where  every  one  can  observe 
them  ;  and  we  must  say  to  them  indi- 
vidually, "  What  meanest  thou,  O 
sleeper1? " 

What  means  the  man  of  the  world, 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  pleasure  1  What 
means  the  lover  of  wealth,  stupified  by 
his  gold]  What  means  the  man  of  am- 
bition, dreaming  of  worthless  honors  ? 
What  mean  they  by  slumbering  ]  Know 
they  not  that  the  ship  has  sprung  a 
leak  ;  that  the  tempest  is  so  fierce  that 
she  is  driven  to  and  fro,  a  mere  straw 
upon  the  waters,  the  masts  shivered,  the 
rudder  broken  1  And  can  they  sleep  1 
sleep  amid  the  tumult  of  the  elements  1 
sleep,  when  in  another  moment  they 
may  be  in  the  eddies  of  the  whirlpool  % 

And  do  they  wonder  at  Jonah  ]  do 
they  marvel  that  he  could  remain  in 
profound  slumber,  whilst  the  winds 
were  howling,  and  the  waves  boiling  ? 
It  is  their  own  case.  The  conscience 
of  Jonah  was  drugged,  was  lethargic — 
otherwise  he  would  have  been  upon  the 
deck,  praying,  struggling  for  deliver- 
ance ;  and  conscience  with  these  men  has 
had  an  opiate, — otherwise  should  we 
see  them  casting  out  their  wares,  lay- 
ing aside,  as  the  Apostle  saith,  "  every 
weight,  using  every  art,  and  applying 
every  engine,  that  they  might  yet  reach 
the  haven  of  everlasting  life.  The  ship- 
master did  not  call  upon  the  prophet  to 
use  his  own  strength  and  skill  in  saving 
the  vessel,  but  only  to  be  earnest  in  im- 
ploring help  from  above.  "  Arise,  call 
upon  thy  God."  The  case,  on  all  hu- 
man calculation,  was  desperate.  Every 
thing  had  been  done  which  a  bold  crew 
could  etfect,  but  all  in  vain  :  and  now, 
unless  God  speedily  interposed,  the  ves- 
sel must  go  down,  and  all  on  board 
perish.  It  is  the  same  in  our  own  day. 
It  is  the  same,  for  example,  with  the 
actual  mariner — the  lighthouse  shows 
the  rock,  the  pilot  is  at  the  helm,  the 
chart  is  consulted,  courage  has  done  its 
utmost ;  but  unless  He,  of  whom  it  is 
said,  "  The  sea  is  his,  and  he  made  it," 
come  to  the  aid  of  the  gallant  fellows, 
alas  !  alas  !  the  merciless  tempest  must 
soon  sweep  them  all  into  one  deep 
grave.  The  sailor  must  look,  must 
pray,  to  the  "  holy,  blessed,  and  glori- 
ous Trinity,"  whilst  he  uses  all  the 
means,  and  exhausts  all  the  resources, 
provided   or   prescribed   by   the  noble 


Corporation,  which,  as  taking  its  name 
from  that  Trinity,  throws  a  sacredness 
round  its  efforts  to  shield  human  life. 
But  the  case  is  also  the  same  morally 
with  all  of  you.  If  we  summon  you  to 
prayer,  it  is  not  to  prayer  unaccompa- 
nied with  effort.  We  bid  you  pray ; 
but  we  expect  that,  along  with  prayer, 
there  will  be  strenuous  exertion,  the 
bending  of  every  power,  the  strain  of 
every  muscle,  the  surrender  of  every 
incumbering  possession,  that  the  ship 
may  be  lightened,  and  ride  out  the 
storm.  Prayer  is  valuable,  prayer  is 
sincere,  only  as  it  is  attended  by  dili- 
gence in  the  use  of  every  known  means. 
With  the  consciousness  that  he  cannot 
save  himself,  man  is  to  act  as  if  he  could ; 
throwing  out  the  earthly  cargo,  lashing 
the  rudder,  sounding  the  waters  ;  but 
withal,  committing  himself  unreservedly 
to  Christ,  who  alone  can  say  to  the  tur- 
bid elements,  "  Peace,  be  still,"  and 
bring  him  to  the  "haven  where  he  would 
be."' 

And  who  can  think  for  a  moment  of 
the  shipwreck  of  death,  and  not  long  to 
have  Christ  with  him  in  the  vessel  ]  It 
must  come,  that  dark  and  disastrous 
hour,  when  the  timbers  of  the  ship  shall 
be  loosened,  and  a  tempest,  not  to  be 
withstood,  shall  hurry  her  towards  the 
shore  of  the  invisible  world.  What  is 
then  to  become  of  the  slumberers,  of 
those  who  are  not  to  be  roused  by  the 
call  of  the  shipmaster  ]  They  must 
wake,  if  not  while  the  vessel  is  being 
tossed  and  shattered,  yet  so  soon  as 
she  lies  a  wreck  upon  the  strand.  But 
to  wake  with  the  consciousness  that 
they  can  never  sleep  aa;ain  ;  to  wake 
only  to  behold  themselves  lost,  lost  be- 
yond power  of  recovery,  lost  for  eter- 
nity !  O  God,  we  cannot  imagine  that 
wakening;  save  Thou  us  from  knowing 
it  by  experience ! 

How  different  the  closing  scene  of 
those  who  are  aware  of  moral  peril,  and 
seeking  safety  in  Christ !  They,  too, 
must  be  wrecked.  There  is  no  exemp- 
tion from  this  ;  all  who  have  voyaged 
on  the  waters  of  life  must  submit  to  the 
vessel  being  broken  up  by  death.  And 
we  know  not  how  this  final  dislocation 
will  be  effected;  whether  by  a  gentle 
or  a  severe  process ;  whether  the  vessel 
shall  be  cast  upon  rocks,  and  beaten  to 
pieces  by  the  storm,  or  whether  she 
shall  sink,  as  ships  have  sunk,  whilst  the 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


299 


sea  is  as  glass,  and  the  sky  without  a 
cloud.  But  whether  the  shipwreck 
occur  in  the  hurricane  or  in  the  calm, 
tne  soul  will  spring  safely  to  the  shore, 
which  she  hath  long  looked  to  as  her 
rest.  And  when  a  new  morning  breaks, 
as  break  it  shall,  on  this  long-darkened 
creation,  the  very  fragments  of  the  shatter- 


ed vessels  shall  all  be  collected  ;  the  navy 
which  had  been  rent  into  shreds,  shall 
be  splendidly  rebuilded  ;  and  the  Church 
of  the  Redeemer,  composed  of  glorified 
souls  in  glorified  bodies,  shall  be  found 
resting  tranquilly  in  that  promised  home, 
where  "the  glorious  Lord  will  be  unto 
us  a  place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams." 


SERMON   YI 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angels  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  praising  God,  and  saying.  Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  towards  men."— St.  Luke  ii.  13  14. 


The  service  of  this  day  must  be  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  solemn  and 
imposing  in  which  men  can  engage.  A 
building  has  been  consecrated  to  God, 
set  apart,  by  one  invested  with  apostolic 
authority,  for  the  ministrations  of  the 
Christian  religion.  From  the  earliest 
times,  the  Almighty  required  that  places 
or  structures  should  be  thus  appropri- 
ated to  his  service.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
sense  in  which  the  Creator  dwelleth  not 
in  temples  made  with  hands.  We  may 
regard  the  universe,  in  the  immenseness 
of  its  spreadings,  as  one  magnificent 
cathedral,  whose  aisles,  rich  with  the 
tracery  of  stars  and  planets,  are  every 
where  inhabited  by  Deity.  But  never- 
theless it  has  appeared  from  the  first, 
that  certain  niches,  so  to  speak,  in  this 
infinite  edifice  were  peculiarly  to  be 
consecrated  to  God,  so  that,  if  the  whole 
creation  were  holy,  there  might  be  spots 
in  it  which  should  each  serve  as  a  "holy 
of  holies."  We  find  the  patriarchs  were 
accustomed  to  rear  altars,  hallowing 
the  scenes  where  they  call  on  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  We  know  that,  when 
Israel  wandered  through  the  wilderness 


*  Preached  at  the  consecration  of  the  church 
of  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  Brighton. 


— the  pillar  of  cloud  his  guide  by  day 
and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night — God  re- 
quired that  a  tabernacle  should  be  rear- 
ed with  costly  and  curious  skill,  conde- 
scending even  to  inspire  the  artificers 
with  wisdom,  that  the  workmanship 
uiight  be  unequalled  in  beauty.  And 
who  can  forget,  that,  when  the  land  of 
promise  was  gained,  and  God  had  given 
to  the  chosen  seed  rest  from  their  ene- 
mies, the  blood  on  David's  hands,  though 
it  was  that  of  the  Lord's  foes,  deprived 
this  righteous  monarch  of  the  honor  of 
rearing  a  temple, — God  hereby  showing 
that  the  work  was  so  holy  and  august, 
that  not  even  the  appearance  of  pollu- 
tion could  be  tolerated  in  those  who 
were  employed  thereupon  1  The  honor 
was  reserved  for  Solomon,  a  prince  upon 
whom  God  had  bestowed  such  rare  en- 
dowments, and  whom  He  had  exalted 
by  such  a  concurrence  of  prosperous 
events,  that  it  would  seem,  says  an  old 
divine,  "  as  if  God  had  made  it  his  busi- 
ness to  build  a  Solomon,  in  order  that 
Solomon  might  build  him  an  house." 
The  work  was  completed  ;  and,  almost 
burdened  with  the  riches  of  the  earth, 
the  temple  of  Jerusalem  soared  above 
the  city,  the  splendid  triumph  of  archi- 
tecture.   Then  it  was  that  a  demonstra 


300 


ANGELS  REJOICING   IN  THE   GOSPEL. 


tion,  never  to  be  forgotten,  was  given 
of  the  favor  with  which  God  regards 
places  devoted  to  his  worship.  The 
monarch  stood  on  a  scaffold  of  burnish- 
ed brass,  and  round  him  were  gathered 
the  princes  and  nobles  of  the  land.  The 
congregation  of  Israel  had  assembled  as 
one  man  at  the  bidding  of  their  king,  and 
sheep  and  oxen  were  sacrificed  which 
could  not  be  told  nor  numbered  for  mul- 
titude. The  Levites,  clothed  in  white 
linen,  stood  at  the  east  end  of  the  altar, 
having  cymbals,  and  psalteries,  and 
harps  ;  and  with  them  an  hundred  and 
twenty  priests,  sounding  with  trumpets. 
And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  whilst  the  fir- 
mament rang  with  the  music  of  these 
divers  instruments,  and  the  voices  of  the 
singers  rose  high  in  God's  praise,  there 
descended  majestically  a  cloud  of  glory : 
the  Almighty  took  possession  of  his  house 
with  such  overpowering  tokens  of  ap- 
proval, that  the  priests  shrank  back,  as 
though  withered  by  the  brilliant  mani- 
festation, and  "  could  not  stand  to  min- 
ister by  reason  of  the  cloud." 

There  ought  never  after  this  to  be 
question,  that  "  God  loves  the  gates  of 
Sion  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of 
Jacob."  And  when,  in  addition  to  the 
proofs  furnished  by  what  took  place 
under  introductory  dispensations,  we 
can  adduce  the  uniform  practice  of  the 
Christian  Church  from  apostolic  days 
downward,  we  feel  that  the  solemn  cere- 
monies of  this  morning  have  so  high  a 
vindication,  that  it  were  worse  than 
superfluous  to  discourse  on  their  propri- 
ety. To  God,  then,  and  to  his  service, 
has  this  building  been  devoted.  Hence- 
forward it  is  to  be  statedly  used  for  pub- 
lic worship,  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel, 
and  the  administering  of  the  Christian 
sacraments.  And  I  know  not  that  I 
could  select  a  more  appropriate  subject 
for  the  first  sermon  delivered  within 
these  walls,  than  that  presented  by  our 
text.  Let  us  take  angels  for  our  pattern 
in  commencing,  as  it  were,  the  procla- 
mations of  the  Gospel :  the  words  which 
the  birth  of  Christ  drew  from  these 
lofty  intelligences,  must  be  specially 
adapted  for  the  opening  announcement 
of  the  great  scheme  of  redemption. 

These  words  naturally  divide  them- 
selves into  two  parts, — the  one,  a  de- 
mand of  praise  to  God  from  the  highest 
ordei-s  of  being;  the  other,  a  statement 
of  the  reason  why  this  praise  should  be 


given.  Or  we  may  say,  with  no  great 
variation  from  this  account  of  the  doxo- 
logy,  that  the  incarnation,  with  its  con- 
sequences, is  here  represented  as  a 
fresh  cause  why  angels  should  glorify 
God  ;  whilst  the  work,  which  the  new- 
born babe  will  achieve,  is  described  as 
"  peace  on  earth,"  or  "  good-will  towards 
men."  We  shall  observe  this  division 
in  arranging  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course, trustir.g  that,  after  expounding 
to  you  the  angelic  account  of  that  Gos- 
pel, for  the  propagation  of  which  this 
house  has  been  reared,  there  will  be 
little  need  for  any  lengthened  remarks 
on  the  duty  of  assisting  in  providing 
churches  for  a  rapidly  increasing  popu- 
lation. Our  first  topic,  then,  will  be, 
the  motive  to  the  glorifying  God,  which 
the  incarnation  furnished  to  angels  ;  the 
second,  the  accuracy  of  the  description 
of  redemption,  that  it  is  "  peace  on 
earth,"  or  "  good-will  towards  men." 

Now  we  may  fairly  doubt,  whether 
up  to  the  time  of  Christ's  birth,  angels 
had  been  made  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  plan  of  our  redemption.  The 
cherubim,  who  bended  over  the  ark, 
full  as  it  was  of  solemn  and  typical 
mysteries,  seemed  to  denote  by  their 
attitude — an  attitude  to  which  St.  Peter 
refers  when  saying,  "  which  things  the 
angels  desire  to  look  into," — that  God 
had  given  to  them,  as  to  mankind,  only 
obscure  intimations  of  his  great  purpose 
of  mercy.  Since,  moreover,  St.  Paul 
speaks  of  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God 
as  now  made  known  by  the  Church  unto 
the  powers  and  principalities  in  heavenly 
places,  we  seem  warranted  in  supposing 
that  it  was  not  until  the  eternal  Son  had 
actually  entered  on  his  awful  undertak- 
ing, that  its  nature  was  fully  revealed 
even  to  the  highest  created  intelligence. 
Then,  it  may  be,  it  burst  at  once  on  the 
angel  and  the  archangel,  so  that  the  in- 
carnation was  to  them  the  discovery  of 
the  long-hidden  secret.  It  was  enough 
for  them  to  know  that  Deity  had  myste- 
riously united  itself  to  humanity,  and 
the  problem  was  solved  on  which  they 
had  hopelessly  bent  all  the  might  of 
their  intellect.  They  had,  then,  that 
element  in  the  stupendous  calculation, 
which,  left  to  themselves,  they  could 
never  have  introduced,  but  which,  once 
furnished,  made  comparatively  easy  the 
ascertaining  all  the  rest.  So  that  the 
moment    in    which    the    Mediator    was 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


301 


born,  would  be  to  them  the  moment  of 
immense  discovery  ;  and  we  might  ex- 
pect to  find  it  one  ofloud  ascriptions  of 
praise.  And  forasmuch  as  the  wisdom, 
the  power,  and  the  goodness  of  God 
comprehend  all  his  attributes,  and  to 
acknowledge  these  is  to  give  Him  glory, 
we  have  only  to  examine  whether  these 
were  not  singularly  manifested  to  angels 
in  the  incarnation  of  Christ,  and  you 
will  understand  why  that  event  caused 
the  heavenly  beings  to  glorify  God. 

We  begin  with  wisdom  :  and  shall  we 
hesitate  to  say  of  the  scheme  of  our  re- 
demption— a  scheme,  you  ohserve,  all 
whose  parts  were  thrown  open  at  once  to 
angels  by  the  incarnation — that  it  is  the 
mightiest  display  ever  put  forth  of  this 
divine  property  1     Here  was  a  province 
of  God's  empire,  that  had  thrown  off 
its    allegiance, — a    province    on   which 
He  had  shed  profusely  the  rich  and  the 
beautiful,  which  He  had  given  to  crea- 
tures fashioned  after  his  own  image,  on 
whose    faculties    there  was  no  bias  to 
make  them  swerve  from  obedience,  and 
on  whom  He  imposed  the  gentlest  trial 
as  preparatory  to  admission  to  still  high- 
er enjoyments.     And  when  these  crea- 
tures, in  spite  of  every  advantage  thus 
liberally  imparted,  yielded  at  once  to 
the  suggestions  of  evil,  there  seemed  to 
remain  nothing  but  final  separation  from 
God,  nothing  but  that  this  globe,  if  still 
left  to  trace  her  orbit,  should  trace  it  as  a 
wrecked  and  depopulated  thing,  preach- 
ing to  other  stars  the  fearfulness  of  dis- 
obedience.    And  it  was  with  the  pro- 
blem of  restoring  this  earth  without  dis- 
honoring its  Maker,  that  finite  wisdom 
was  quite  unable  to  cope.     But  infinite 
wisdom   arranged  a  plan,  which  made 
man's   rescue  not  only  consistent  with 
the  honor  of  God,  but  a  source  of  the 
greatest  revenue  of  glory.     And,  in  ar- 
ranging this  plan,  wisdom  was  required 
to  undertake  the  guardianship  of  every 
other  perfection  :  she  must  set  herself 
to  the  task  of  preserving  justice  invio- 
late, and  holiness  immaculate,  and  truth 
uncompromised  ;   and   yet   of  allowing 
love  to  go  forth  to  the  succor  of  trans- 
gressors.    So  that,  whilst  the  remaining 
properties    of  Godhead    might    shroud 
themselves,   each   in  its   own   dignities 
and  claims,  wisdom  must  be  occupied 
in  embracing  them  all  within  the  ran^e 
of  her  device,  manifesting  herself  by  up- 
holding the  rest. 


What  then  shall  be  said  of  the  incar- 
nation, but  that  it  overpoweringly  exhi- 
bited   to    angels    the    wisdom    of  theii 
Maker]     No  sooner  had  the  Godhead 
joined  itself  to  the  manhood,  than   the 
mystery,  which  had  been  hid  for  ages 
in  the  Eternal  Mind,  brake  forth,  splen- 
did with  the    coruscations  of  wisdom, 
and   "  a  wave   of  delighted   sensibity  " 
must  have  gone  down  the  ranks  of  the 
heavenly   hosts ;    and    no    marvel  that, 
with  one  accord,  they  should  have  sent 
up  such  an  anthem,  that  shepherds,  on 
the  plains  of  Bethlehem,  caught  its  echo. 
It  was  not  so  much  the  display  of  love 
which    moved    them  ;    for    they    knew 
long  before,   that  infinite  love   had  in- 
duced  God  to  plan  man's  redemption. 
It  was  not  the  display  of  justice  ;  for 
in  their   own    debates  they  must  have 
computed  on  a  justice  which  could  not 
pass  by  iniquity.    It  was  not  the  display 
of  holiness ;  for  it  would   have  been  to 
undeify  Deity,  to  suppose  Him  capable 
of  admitting   the  impure  into  commu- 
nion with  Himself.     It  must  have  been 
the  wisdom  which  chiefly  amazed  them  ; 
the  manifold  wisdom — manifold,  for  it 
had  reconciled  every  opposing  interest; 
it  had  provided  for  every  possible  emer- 
gency ;  it  had  left  no  point  neglected, 
either  in  the  attributes  of  the  Creator, 
or  the  necessities  of  the  creature — this 
wisdom,  manifested  in  that  process  of 
rescue,  which   stood  developed   before 
them    in  the   Word  being  made  flesh, 
must  have  filled  with   new  ecstacy  the 
angelic  company;  yea,  must  have  intro- 
duced such  a  new  epoch,  as  it  were,  in 
the    heavenly    annals,    that,    as   though 
there  had  heretofore  been  silence  in  the 
majestic  temple  of  the  skies,  and  no  as- 
criptions of  praise  had  proceeded  from 
that  throng  who  moved  in  the  light  of 
God's   immediate   presence,   we   might 
expect  that  one  rank  would  call  to  an- 
other, even   as  they  did   in  the  hearing 
of    the    amazed    and     almost    terrified 
Isaiah,    and    that    angel    to    archangel, 
principality    to     power,     Cherubim    to 
Seraphim,    would     roll    the    summons, 
"  Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo,  Glory,  glory 
to  God  in  the  highest." 

But  if  the  manifestation  of  wisdom 
must  have  been  specially  that  which 
called  forth  the  celestial  song,  there 
were,  we  doubt  not,  notes  in  that  song 
which  were  wakened  by  the  manifesta- 
tion of  power.     It  showed  Omnipotence 


302 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


at  least  as  much  to  create  man  the 
second  time  as  the  first.  To  rebuild 
what  sin  had  thrown  down  was  as 
mighty  an  act  as  to  speak  it  out  of  no- 
thingness. We  should  rather  say  might- 
ier. It  cost  God  nothing  to  create  an 
universe;"  "he  spake,  and  it  was  done  ; 
he  commanded,  and  it  stood  fast."  But 
it  cost  him  the  gift  of  his  own  Son — 
who  shall  measure  it  1 — to  redeem  a 
single  planet.  We  know  not  how  to 
express  to  you  what  we  think  of  the 
power  displayed  in  the  work  of  our  re- 
demption. It  is  possible  that  this  attri- 
bute of  God  is  not  so  generally  recog- 
nized as  are  others  in  the  interference 
of  Christ ;  but  indeed  there  is  none 
whose  manifestation  is  more  marked 
or  more  wonderful.  It  was  not  merely 
that  God  entered  into  conflict  with  and 
overcame  Satan.  Angels  knew,  and 
men  knew,  that  the  power  of  God  was 
immeasurably  greater  than  the  power 
of  Satan  ;  and  that,  therefore,  if  the 
two  were  antagonists,  there  could  not 
be  doubt  on  which  side  would  be  vic- 
tory. But  the  amazing  display  of  God's 
power  is  that  of  power  over  Himself. 
This  had  been  exhibited  from  the  first 
moment  of  our  apostacy.  When  penalty 
had  been  incurred,  and  God  forbore  to 
strike,  then  was  the  grandest  demon- 
stration of  Omnipotence.  '  If  I  would 
figure  to  myself  Almightiness,  creation 
is  as  nothing  to  me  when  compared  with 
long-suffering.  Worlds  upon  worlds, 
systems  upon  systems,  a  syllable  peo- 
pling immensity,  and  causing  the  un- 
travelled  solitude  to  teem  with  life,  all 
this  conveys  to  me  no  such  august  idea 
of  Omnipotence,  as  God's  bearing  with 
sinners,  and  not  striking  down  the  rebel- 
lious. We  say  again,  that  long-suffer- 
ing is  God's  power  over  Himself;  it  is 
restraint  on  his  own  attributes,  —and 
that  matter  is  at  his  disposal,  this  is  no- 
thing; that  spirit  is  at  his  disposal,  this 
is  nothing  ;  but  that  He  can  be  insulted, 
and  not  take  vengeance  ;  defied,  and 
not  crush  ;  blasphemed,  and  not  annihi- 
late; this  is  the  overcoming  truth  ;  this 
is  the  being  Omnipotent  enough  to  con- 
trol Omnipotence;  and  myself,  in  my 
constant  offences,  a  living  thing  and  yet 
a  sinful,  myself  am  greater  proof  how 
mighty  is  the  Lord,  than  the  earth  with 
all  its  wonders,  and  the  firmament  with 
all  its  hosts. 

But   this   is  not  the  only  respect  in 


which  redemption  displayed  power. 
Redemption  demanded  the  humiliation 
of  God  :  and  that  God  could  humble 
Himself — it  was  the  same  kind  of  de- 
monstration of  Omnipotence,  though  we 
know  not  whether  it  be  not  yet  more  sur- 
prising, as  that  furnished  by  long-suffer- 
ing. God  could  not  make  Himself:  to 
be  divine,  He  must  necessarily  be  self- 
existent.  And  if  He  could  not  produce, 
neither  could  He  destroy  Himself;  it 
being  just  as  contrary  to  the  divine  na- 
ture, to  suppose  Him  ceasing  as  begin- 
ning to  be  God.  But  that,  without 
ceasing  to  be  God,  He  should  be  able 
to  empty  Himself,  as  in  the  strong  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  to  circumscribe 
Himself  within  a  human  body,  and  to 
put  off  his  glories  by  shrouding  Himself 
in  matter — we  say  of  this,  that  it  was 
apparently  such  an  approach  towards 
the  suspension,  or  even  the  cessation, 
of  Deity,  it  was  drawing  so  close  to  the 
impossibility,  that  imagination  can  figure 
nothing  that  could  more  task  Omnipo- 
tence— to  cease  to  be  God,  this  was  the 
impossible  :  to  remain  God,  and  yet  be 
found  in  the  likeness  of  man,  this  was 
not  the  impossible,  but  until  done,  was 
the  inconceivable;  oh,  it  was  the  stop- 
ping of  the  pulse,  and  yet  keeping  the 
life  !  the  giving  that  to  be  born  which 
never  had  beginning,  to  die  which  never 
can  have  end.  If  we  may  use  such  ex- 
pression, there  seemed  to  be  in  humility 
a  natural  unsuitableness  to  divinity  :  it 
becomes  the  created  ;  but  appears  ex- 
cluded, by  his  very  nature,  from  the 
uncreated.  And,  therefore,  that  God 
should  humble  Himself,  that  He  who 
was  rich  should  for  our  sakes  become 
poor,  it  is  not  merely,  nor  mainly,  the 
condescension,  or  the  loving-kindness, 
which  is  wonderful  in  this  ;  it  is  the 
power — and  that  divinity  and  humanity 
should  coalesce  to  make  a  Mediator,  I 
more  recognize  Omnipotence  in  the  ef- 
fecting snch  combination,  than  in  all 
those  registers  of  might,  whose  letters 
are  the  mountains  or  whose  syllables  the 
stars. 

And  then,  again,  the  power  displayed 
throughout  the  application  of  redemp- 
tion, displayed  in  the  change  of  heart, 
in  the  renewal  of  nature,  and  finally  in 
the  quickening  of  the  dust  of  saints;  so 
that  this  corruptible  puts  on  incorrup- 
tion,  this  mortal  immortality,  where 
shall  we  find  the  parallel  to  this  ]     And 


ANGELS  REJOICING   IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


303 


when  you  combine  these  several  demon- 
strations of  Al mightiness,  and  suppose 
that  angels  read  each  in  the  incarnation, 
Bfleing  that  to  them  the  incarnation  re- 
vealed the  whole  of  redemption,  you 
must  admit  that  the  power  as  well  as 
the  wisdom  of  the   Most  Hisdi  was  so 


manifested  by  Christ's  birth  to  heavenly 
beings,  that  "  Gloria  in  excelsis  "  might 
be   expected    as    their    chorus.      There 
had   undoubtedly  been  thrown  open  to 
these    lofty   creatures    the   natural   and 
spiritual  creations,  so  that  free  to  ex- 
patiate  over  the  work  of  God's  hands, 
and  to  penetrate  its  wonders,  they  had 
gathered  such  ideas  as  are  unattainable 
by  ourselves  of  Him  to  whom  they  re- 
ferred all  the   architecture  and  all   the 
animation.     But  when  Deity  was  before 
them,    manifesting    long-suffering,   that 
power    over    Himself  which    had   not 
been  shown  when  their  own  compeers 
transgressed — for  with  the  fall  of  angels 
came  vengeance,  and  to  be  a  rebel  was 
to   be   crushed — and  when  divinity  was 
exhibited  in  humility,  such  might  having 
been  applied  to  the  mightiest  as  brought 
him  down  from  his  inaccessible  splen- 
dors, and  made  Him  of  no  reputation  ; 
and    yet  further,   when  they  saw  how 
corruption   would    be    eradicated  from 
the  corruptible,  and  graves  resign  their 
vast  population,  and  death  be  swallowed 
up  in  victory,  and  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  the  apostate  become  kings  and 
priests  unto  the   living   God,  and   new 
heavens  and   a  new  earth  rise  from  the 
ruin    and    wreck    of  the    old,    and    all 
through  the   energies   of  the  one  work 
of  mediation;  oh,  we  think  it  must  have 
been  as  nothing  to  them  that  they  had  tra- 
versed creation  in  its  height  and  breadth 
and  length,  and  found  Omnipotence  at 
every    step ;    redemption    was    such    a 
fresh  and  unrivalled  display  of  Almigh- 
tiness,  that,  as  though   now  for  the  first 
time  they  had  learned  that  nothing  was 
too  hard  for  the  Lord,  they  would  ex- 
cite each  the  other  with  the  inspiriting 
summons,  "  Glory,  glory  to  God  in  the 
highest." 

You  arc  to  add  to  all  this,  that,  in 
God's  purpose  towards  men,  as  laid 
open  by  the  incarnation,  angels  must 
have  found  such  proofs  of  divine  good- 
ness as  they  could  not  gather  from  any 
other  exhibition.  That  their  Creator 
was  a  being  of  amazing  benevolence, 
full   of  love  towards  the  obedient — of 


I  his  it  was  impossible  they  could  enter- 
tain  doubt:    their   own   existence,    and 
their  own  enjoyments,  attested  a  prin- 
ciple  in    Deity,  leading  Him  to  desire 
and  design  the  universal  happiness.     But 
they   had    not    beheld   mercy   rejoicing 
against  Judgment.     Nothing  had  occur- 
red,  but    quite    the    reverse,  to  inform 
them  that  the  love  of  their  Maker  could 
be  proof  against  baseness,  against  ingrat- 
itude,   against    rebellion.     In   the   only 
instance,    so  far  as  we  know,    besides 
our  own,  in  which  creatures  had  thrown 
off  allegiance,  love  had  seemed   extin- 
guished  by  apostacy,  and  made  no  at- 
tempt to  mitigate  the  severities  of  jus- 
tice.    Angels  might  therefore  have  sup- 
posed, judging  from  what  had  happened 
in  their  own  rank  of  being,  that  to  dis- 
please God  was  to  lose,  at  once  and  for 
ever,  all  share    in    his  mercies.      They 
could  have  had  no  idea,  until  informed 
of  God's  dealings  with  men,  that  divine 
love  was  of  a  nature,  and   a  si  length, 
to  triumph  over  unvvorthiness,  and  i)re- 
serve  its  attachments  in  spite  of  the  en- 
mity of  its  objects.      It  was  not  possible 
that  such  idea  could  be  gathered  from 
any  of  the   ordinary  demonstrations  of 
benevolence,  from  those  exuberant  and 
tender  compassions  which  encircled,  as 
they  knew,  and   attended  the  countless 
tribes  that  had  done  nothing  to  alienate 
divine  favor.     Until  there  had  been  dis- 
obedience,   they    could    not    determine 
whether  love  could  bear  with  ingrati- 
tude; and  when  the  disobedience  came, 
and  evil  first  entered  the  universe,  the 
decision  must  have   been,  that  ingrati- 
tude   turned    love    into    hatred.      And, 
therefore,  when   they  found  the  divine 
compassions  encomoassing   man  in  the 
midst  of  his  rebellion,  and  saw  that  love 
could    subsist    unimpaired   when   every 
thing    had    been    done  to  alienate   and 
quench  it ;  will  you  not  allow  that  the 
goodness  of  the  Almighty  was  display- 
ed to  them   under  an  aspect  heretofore 
unimagined,  and  perhaps  even   thought 
impossible  ;   an   aspect  which  it  did  not 
wear  when  busied  with  ministering  to 
the  wants  of  all  ranks  in  creation,   and 
wondrously  providing  that  there  should 
be    happiness,    wheresoever  there    was 
innocence,    throughout     the     universe  ? 
and  shall  we  then  marvel  that,  as  though 
then   for   the   first  time  known  to  be  in- 
finitely benevolent,  because  then  for  the 
first  time  commending  his  love  by  fixing 


304 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


it  on  an  enemy,  our  Maker  should  have 
seemed  to  angels  to  demand  a  new  an- 
them of  enraptured  adoration,  so  that 
all  the  company  of  heaven,  learning 
from  the  incarnation  what  divine  mercy 
was,  uttered  and  answered  to  the  sum- 
mons, "  Glory,  glory  to  God  in  the 
highest1?  " 

We  will,  however,  turn  to  the  con- 
sidering the  description  which  angels 
give  of  the  work  of  redemption;  and 
which,  if  we  rightly  interpret  the  doxo- 
logy,  contains  much  of  their  reason  for 
praising  the  Lord.  Let  glory — this 
seems  the  import  of  the  passage — he 
ascribed  to  God  by  the  highest  ranks 
in  creation :  for  there  is  now  peace  on 
earth,  that  is,  good-will  towards  men. 
Considering  redemption  as  already  com- 
pleted,— for  the  incarnation,  though  only 
the  commencement,  gave  certain  pledge 
of  the  consummation, — angels  allege  as 
its  consequence,  that  peace  long  banish- 
ed from  the  earth,  is  restored,  for  that 
God  can  now  again  entertain  "  good- 
will towards  men."  Hence  they  iden- 
tify, or  represent  as  the  same  thing, 
good-will  being  felt  to  mankind,  and 
peace  being  re-established  upon  earth. 
And  it  is  this  identity  on  which  we  now 
have  to  speak.  "  God  was  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself." 
The  Mediator,  by  obeying  and  dying 
in  our  stead,  removed  those  separating 
causes  which  kept  us  far  off  from  our 
Maker :  He  did  not,  indeed,  render  us 
the  objects  of  good-will, — that  we  were 
already,  otherwise  there  would  have 
been  no  interference  on  our  behalf, — 
but  He  made  it  honorable  on  the  part 
of  God  to  show  us  good-will,  consistent 
with  his  attributes  «-o  deal  with  us  as  no 
longer  enemies.  Hence  it  might  accu- 
rately be  said,  that,  when  Christ  was 
born,  there  was  "  good-will  towards 
men  : "  the  birth  was  the  earnest  of  the 
world's  redemption ;  and  redemption, 
though  it  produced  not  the  good-will, 
made  a  clear  space  for  its  exercise. 
And  that  God  could  now  display  good- 
will towards  men,  inasmuch  as  He  had 
reconciled  them  to  Himself,  was  vir- 
tually the  same  thing  as  that  there  was 
now  "  peace  upon  earth."  There  was 
peace  upon  earth  in  the  noblest  and 
most  important  of  all  senses  :  God  and 
man  were  at  peace ;  those  who  some- 
times were  far  off  being  made  nigh  by 
Christ's  blood. 


But,  indeed,  if  God's  good- will  to- 
wards men  were  to  produce  its  legiti- 
mate effects,  there  would  be  peace  upon 
earth  in  a  larger  and  more  literal  signi- 
fication. It  is  possible  that  angels, 
when  exulting  that  a  surety  had  been 
found  for  humankind,  contemplated  re- 
sults which  ought  indeed  to  have  follow- 
ed, but  which  our  corruption  has  arrested. 
There  would  verily  be  peace  upon  earth, 
and  that  too  because  there  is  good-will 
towards  men,  if  the  tendencies  of  Chris- 
tianity were  not  counteracted  by  the 
passions  of  those  whom  it  addresses. 
We  know  not  whether,  engrossed  with 
magnificent  consequences  which  have 
the  future  for  their  scene,  we  are  not 
apt  to  overlook  the  present  benefits 
which  Christianity  is  adapted  to  confer. 
We  are  not  to  judge  these  benefits  by 
what  we  see  produced,  but  by  what 
would  be  produced,  if  acknowledged 
tendencies  were  allowed  their  full 
scope.  The  tendencies  of  the  Gospel 
— and  these,  it  may  be,  excited  the 
gladness  of  angels, — are  manifestly  to 
the  banishing  discord  in  its  every  shape, 
to  the  repressing  envy,  and  malice,  and 
ill-will,  and  to  the  linking  in  the  closest 
brotherhood  all  the  families  of  our  race. 
And  it  may,  indeed,  be  of  yet  distant 
days  that  prophecy  speaks,  when  decla- 
ring that  men  "  shall  beat  their  swords 
into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into 
pruning-hooks  :  nation  shall  not  lift  up 
sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they 
learn  war  any  more."  But  neverthe- 
less, those  days  would  be  both  the  past 
and  the  present,  if  the  Gospel  had  ac- 
quired universal  dominion.  The  Mil- 
lennium, with  all  that  beauty  and  bril- 
liancy which  Scriptural  images  throw 
round  this  season  of  blessedness,  is  no- 
thing but  Christianity  pervading  all  the 
homes,  and  grained  into  all  the  hearts, 
of  the  children  of  men.  If,  whereso- 
ever nominally  received,  Christianity 
had  been  received  into  the  hearts  of  a 
people,  there  would  have  been  com- 
paratively banished  from  the  circles  of 
that  community,  all  that  ministers  to 
public  disquietude  or  private  unhappi- 
ness.  Fill  a  country  with  true  Chris- 
tians, and  you  necessarily  fill  it  with 
those  who  wish  each  other's  good,  and 
bear  each  other's  burdens.  You  exile 
from  that  country,  the  wrongs  and  jeal- 
ousies and  divisions  which  keep  society 
ever  agitated;  and  introduce  that  deep 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


30 


and  permanent  tranquillity,  which  c;in 
only  subsist  where  the  fear  of  God  has 
stilled  those  countless  under-currents 
which,  if  you  could  dive,  you  would  now 
find  beneath  the  smoothest  surface. 

So  that  angels  did  but  proclaim  what 
Christianity  was  designed  and  fitted  to 
produce,  when,  on  the  birth-night  of 
Him  who  came  to  restore  us  to  the  en- 
joyment of  the  good-will  of  God,  they 
made  the  firmament  ring  with  the  an- 
nouncement, that  now  there  was  peace 
upon  earth.  Peace  has  not,  indeed, 
followed  ;  and  angels,  as  they  behold 
how  discord  and  trouble  overspread  the 
redeemed  earth,  may  marvel  that  the 
prophecy,  if  such  it  may  be  called, 
which  they  uttered  to  the  shepherds  at 
Bethlehem,  should  have  been  only  so 
partially  fulfilled.  But  this  has  result- 
ed from  nothing  but  the  antipathy  and 
resistance  of  our  nature  to  a  religion 
which  demands  self-denial  and  holiness. 
Angels,  it  may  be,  did  not  reckon  on 
such  antipathy  and  resistance.  They 
may  have  thought, — and  on  this  per- 
suasion they  may  have  woven  their  cho- 
rus,— that  all  enmity  would  give  way 
before  so  touching  a  demonstration  of 
divine  love,  as  that  of  God's  sending  his 
own  Son  to  die  for  man's  sins.  They 
sang  of  peace  upon  earth  :  for  as  salva- 
tion itself  had  not  come  within  their 
discovery,  neither  had  its  possible  re- 
jection by  the  great  mass  of  its  objects. 
Oh !  it  may  not  have  seemed  more  in- 
supposable  to  angels,  that  men  could  be 
redeemed,  than  that,  if  redeemed,  they 
could  throw  back  with  scorn  the  mercy 
God  proffered.  And,  therefore,  there 
is  to  us  something  wonderfully  affect- 
ing in  the  circumstance,  that  angels 
sang  of  that  as  immediate,  which,  alas  ! 
even  yet  we  cannot  point  to  as  pro- 
duced. It  is  as  though  angels  had 
thought  man  less  obdurate,  less  wed- 
ded to  iniquity,  less  in  love  with  ruin, 
than  experience  has  proved  him.  An- 
gels could  not  think,  that  with  here  and 
there  a  few  exceptions,  those  for  whom 
Christ  died  would  despise  and  reject 
Him;  and  therefore  did  they  sing  of  in- 
stant peace,  never  calculating,  that, 
through  human  indifference  and  infi- 
delity, centuries  of  conflict  and  misery 
would  yet  roll  heavily  over  men.  They 
supposed  that  the  wretched  would  be 
willing  to  be  made  happy,  and  the  sink- 
ng  to  be  rescued,  and  the  lost  to  be 
vol.  n.  39 


saved  :  and  hence  their  chorus  of"  peace 
on  earth,  good-will  towards  men."  Oh  ! 
they  had  not  been  able  to  discover  that 
Jesus  would  die;  could  they,  thou,  <lis- 
cover  the  alone  greater  mar'vol.  that  He 
would  be  crucified  afresh,  and  put  to 
open  shame,  by  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands in  every  generation  I 

Such,  then,  is  that  Gospel,  thus  hon- 
orable to  God  and  beneficial  to  man 
which  is  henceforward  to  bo  statedly 
preached  within  these  walls.  This 
building  has  been  reared  and  conse- 
crated on  purpose  for  the  solemn  gather- 
ings of  the  people,  when  they  shall  as- 
semble to  worship  God  in  the  manner 
which  this  Gospel  prescribes,  to  be  in- 
structed in  the  truths  which  it  unfolds, 
and  to  partake  of  the  sacraments  which 
it  instituted.  And  though  I  ant  but  a 
stranger  amongst  you,  1  do  heartily  re- 
joice that  another  sanctuary  has  now 
been  provided,  in  which  the  inhabitants 
— especially  the  poorer — of  this  impor- 
tant and  ever-growing  town  may  enjoy 
the  ministrations  of  Christianity.  It  is 
a  noble  and  refreshing  spectacle  which 
this  town  presents :  nowhere  has  there 
been  a  finer  effort  at  church  extension  ; 
but  if  the  actually  poor  population  be 
little  short  of  twenty  thousand,  and  if 
the  free-sittings  provided  by  the  Estab- 
lishment be  much  short  of  six,  it  is  but 
too  evident  how  greatly  this  additional 
church  was  needed,  and  how  great  a 
deficiency  even  this  will  still  leave. 
You  are  thus  applying  the  only  true 
remedy  to  those  growing  disorders 
which  excite  the  alarm  of  every  lover 
of  God  and  of  man.  We  may  confi- 
dently assert,  basing  our  statement  on 
what  may  be  called  the  ecclesiastical 
statistics  of  England  and  Scotland,  that, 
in  exact  proportion  that  the  parochial 
economy  has  been  adequate  to  the  wants 
of  a  district,  has  'that  district  been  the 
seat  of  virtue,  loyalty,  and  happiness  ; 
and  that,  wherever  a  church  has  been 
planted  in  the  midst  of  a  neglected  and 
dissolute  neighborhood,  and  furnished 
with  an  active,  self-denying  minister, 
there  has  been  rapidly  effected  a  great 
change  for  the  better;  as  though  all 
that  is  needed  to  the  reclaiming  the 
moral  waste  produced  by  the  neglect 
of  past  years,  were  the  breaking  our 
parishes  into  manageable  portions,  and 
giving  to  each  its  sanctuary  and  its 
pastor.     Neither   is   there    any   reason 


306 


ANGELS   REJ05CING   IN  THE    GOSPEL. 


why  we  should  feel  surprised  at  such 
result.  The  Christian  religion,  working 
through  the  ordinances  of*  the  Christian 
Church,  is  the  appointed  instrument  for 
converting  the  wilderness  into  the  gar- 
den, and  preserving  the  verdure  once 
produced.  What  marvel,  then,  if  a 
dearth  of  these  ordinances  have  been 
followed  by  luxuriant  growth  in  crime, 
and  their  comparative  abundance  by 
the  cheering  exhibition  of  virtuous, 
well-conditioned  families  % 

We  do,  therefore,  heartily  rejoice  in 
every  addition  to  the  sanctuaries  of  the 
Established  Church;  more  particularly 
when,  as  in  the  present  instance,  a  large 
share  of  the  increased  accommodation 
is  given  up  to  the  poor.  I  know  not 
what  may  be  the  precise  condition  of 
the  poor  in  this  town;  but  I  know  what 
it  is  in  many  other  places.  I  know  that 
we  are  reaping  the  bitter  fruits  of  long 
and  criminal  neglect,  in  the  growth  of 
infidelity  amongst  the  lower  orders, — 
infidelity  under  a  new  name,  but  with 
even  more  than  its  old  hatefulness  and 
destructiveness ;  so  that  if  we  do  not 
set  ourselves  vigorously  to  work,  diffu- 
sing with  all  carefulness  and  industry 
the  pure  Gospel  of  Christ,  we  are  men- 
aced with  the  being  surrounded  by  a 
godless  population,  which  shall  cast  its 
derision  on  all  that  is  sacred  in  faith,  and 
a  blight  on  all  that  is  lovely  in  our  homes. 
And  it  is  the  business  of  the  Established 
Church  to  meet  this  emergence  :  it  is 
her  office :  and  she  must  not  delegate 
it  to  other  hands,  even  if  other  hands 
were  ready  to  undertake  it.  For  our 
own  part,  we  do  not  see  that  an  Estab- 
lishment fulfils  its  high  calling,  until  it 
offers  the  means  of  religous  instruction 
to  all  in  the  land.  And  we  have  a  thor- 
ough persuasion  that,  if  its  offers  were 
thus  equal  to  the  demand,  there  would 
not  be  found  many  'who  would  seek 
elsewhere  for  the  public  means  of  grace. 
The  want  of  church-room  has  made  its 
thousands  of  dissenters,  where  objection 
to  the  Church  services  has  made  one. 
We  say  this  with  as  much  of  sorrow  as 
of  confidence.  For  it  is  cause  of  pun- 
gent regret,  that  our  Establishment  has 
been  so  deficient  in  a  power  of  expan- 
sion, that  not  only  have  thousands  been 
left  in  utter  ignorance,  but  thousands 
more  have  been  driven  to  the  con- 
venticle, who  would  never  have  been 
guilty  of  schism,   had   the  Church  ex- 


tended   to    them    the    benefits    of   her 
ministry. 

And  it  may,  or  it  may  not,  accord  with 
the  spirit  of  the  age,  to  speak  of  schism 
as  a  sin  :  but  God  forbid  that  the  Church 
should  shrink  from  asserting  her  author- 
ity— an  authority  derived,  not  from  the 
being  established,  but  from  the  being 
apostolical — and  which  jnakes  it  no  light, 
no  indifferent  thing,  to  separate  from  her 
communion,  and  to  set  up  teachers  who, 
however  distinguished  by  personal  piety, 
and  however  eminent  in  scriptural  know- 
ledge, want  what  we  must  hold  to  be 
indispensable  to  the  office  they  as- 
sume, the  appointment  of  God  convey- 
ed through  the  primitive  and  unadulter- 
ated channels.  Assailed  as  an  establish- 
ment, these  are  days  in  which  our  Church 
must  boldly  declare  herself  apostolical. 
You  may  strip  her  of  her  temporalities, 
you  may  deprive  her  of  the  support  of 
the  state — but  she  denies  that  you  can 
take  from  her  what  makes  her  the  C  hurch. 
The  state  might  establish  any  sect  it 
pleased,  or  it  might  brand  itself  with  an 
infidel  brand  by  refusing  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  support  of  Christian- 
ity ;  but  the  established  sect  would  be  as 
far  off  as  ever  from  being  an  apostolical 
Church,  whilst  the  discarded  Church 
would  be  as  far  off  as  ever  from  sur- 
rendering its  apostolical  character. — 
Therefore,  let  it  never  be  thought, 
when  the  Church  vehemently  resists 
the  dissolution  of  the  connexion  be- 
tween herself  and  the  state,  that  the 
resistance  proceeds  from  a  feeling,  that 
in  ceasing  to  be  established  we  should 
cease  to  be  the  Church.  We  feel  in- 
deed that  it  would  be  a  suicidal  act  on 
the  part  of  the  state,  to  sever  itself  from 
the  Church,  and  thus  abjure  all  care  of 
Christianity.  We  can  never  believe  that 
God  hath  anointed  princes,  and  given 
the  sceptre  to  potentates,  on  purpose 
merely  that  they  may  maintain  public, 
order,  foster  commerce,  and  defend  the 
rights  of  property.  This  is  a  pait,  but 
only  a  small  part  of  their  office — a  king 
is  the  vicegerent  of  Deity,  and  Deity, 
from  his  very  nature,  must  legislate  for 
eternity.  We  reckon,  therefore,  the 
religous  instruction  of  the  people  as  the 
most  sacred  of  the  duties  which  devolve 
upon  legislators  ;  and  we  protest  against 
a  government's  throwing  off  the  most 
solemn  of  its  obligations,  and  thus  bring- 
ing on  a  land  the  withering  frown  of  the 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


3  7 


Almighty's  displeasure.  But,  never- 
theless, the  Church  has  in  her  the  ele- 
ments of  strength,  and  would  live  by 
herself;  whilst  the  state,  by  dissociating 
itself  from  religion,  would  have  written 
apostate  on  its  forehead  :  and,  in  ridding 
itself  of  what  some  dare  to  call  an  incu- 
bus, would  have  thrown  overboard  the 
ballast,  which,  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  nation- 
al recognition  of  subjection  to  Christ, 
has  steadied  the  kingdom  in  many  fierce 
hurricanes  of  political  convulsion. 

We  cannot,  however,  enlarge  further 
on  these  and  similiar  topics,  which  are 
naturally  suggested  by  the  occasion  of 
our  assembling.  We  have  only  again 
to  express  the  delight  which  we  "feel 
that  a  church  has  now  been  opened  for 
numbers  who  could  otherwise  have  had 
no  access  to  the  authorized  ministrations 
of  the  Christian  religion.  We  rejoice 
in  the  expectation  that  within  these  walls 
will  many  assemble  to  confess  sin,  to  cry 
for  mercy,  and  to  chaunt  the  praises  of 

,-../-1 * ,1   T3„] TT -Tl 


thy  sting  I  0  Crave,  where  is  thy  vic- 
tory 1"  and  mourners  shall  dry  their 
tears,  and  commit  a  beloved  one  to  the 
dust,  in  the  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a 
glorious  resurrection.  Thus  may  this 
buildi 


their  Creator  and  Redeemer.     Here  will 
they"  receive  with  meekness  the  ingraft- 
ed   word  which   is  able  to    save    their 
souls."     Here  will  they  kneel  in  deep 
humility,   and  partake  by  faith  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  the  Lord.     Hither — 
of  course  we  speak  only  of  the  uses  of 
the  structure,  without  reference  to  what 
may  be,  in  the  present  instance,  the  pa- 
rochial arrangements — hither  will  come 
those  who  desire  to  be  joined  in  the  un- 
ion which  typifies  that  between  Christ 
and    his   Church — the   legislature    may, 
permit  a  Christian  population  to  make 
matriage  a  civil   contract;  but  a  Chris- 
tian population  will  spurn  the    permis- 
sion, and  form  no  where  but  in  God's 
house  that  sacred  alliance,  so  mysteri- 
ously significative.     Hither  will  infants 
be  brought,  that  they  may  be  regenera- 
ted in  the  waters  of  baptism  :   Christian 
parents  know  that  the  law  of  the  land 
may  he  satisfied  if  they  insert  in  an  of- 
fice-hook the   birth-day  and  name  of  a 
child,  but  that  the  law  of  Christ  is  fatal- 
ly set  at  nought,  unless  the  priest  bap- 
tize that  child  "  in  the  name  of  the  Fa- 
ther, and  of  the    Son,  and  of  the   Holy 
Ghost."      And  to  the  gates  of  this  build- 
ing may  wind  the  sorrowing  train  that 
accompanies  a  brother,  or  a    sister,  to 
the  long  home  appointed  for  our  race. 
Within  these  walls,  and  over  the  cold 
relics    of  the  dead,  may  be  heard  the 
sublime  challenge,  "  O  Death,  where  is 


become  associated  with  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  thesurroundingpop- 
uhition,  with  the  marriages,  and  the 
births,  and  the  funerals;  haunted  by  rich 
memories  as  well  as  splendid  hopes — 
the  place  which  is  most  peopled  to  re- 
collection with  what  has  been  interesting 
in  life,  and  to  expectation  with  what  is 
brilliant  in  eternity.  O,  the  parish 
church,  and  the  parish  minister — the 
one  is  the  structure  which  most  awakens 
emotions  in  a  wanderer's  breast,  after 
long  years  of  absence,  as  though  it  were 
the  gathering-place  for  all  the  charities 
of  the  heart;  and  the  other  so  winds 
himself,  by  his  office,  into  the  histories 
of  those  amongst  whom  he  ministers, 
that  he  becomes,  unconsciously,  a  me- 
mento uf  the  past,  and  may  use  the  in- 
fluence which  this  gives  in  leading  on- 
wards to  the  future. 

That  the  Almighty  God  may  fill  this 
Church  with  his  presence,  and  cause 
his  blessing  to  rest  abundantly  on  him 
who  is  to  minister  therein,  is  and  will 
be  my  earnest  petition.  I  must  always 
feel  as  though  associated  by  no  common 
ties  with  a  church,  in  which  mine  was 
the  first  voice  to  take  up,  however  fee- 
bly, the  angelic  proclamation,  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth 
peace,  good-will  towards  men." 

And  to  whom  out  of  the  honored  list 
of  apostles  and  saints  do  ye  dedicate 
this  structure  1  To  St.  John  the  Evan- 
gelist. Then  let  the  evangelist,  preach 
to  you  ere  ye  depart.  "Whosoever 
hath  this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his 
brother  have  need,  and  shutteth  up  his 
bowels  of  compassion  from  him,  how 
dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  him  1  " 
The  poor  are  appealing  to  you  :  there 
is  yet  a  considerable  sum  required,  ere 
this  church  can  permanently  secure  to 
the  poor  the  blessings  of  a  stated  min- 
istry; and  will  you  be  slack  in  prevent- 
ing such  anomaly  as  that,  on  the  day  of 
the  opening  of  the  church  of  St.  John 
the  Evangelist,  there  should  be  no  dis- 
play of  the  love  which  was  this  evange- 
list's special  characteristic  ] 

We  appeal  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
town  :  they  are  urged  by  every  possible 
motive:  this  church  is  erected  for  their 


308 


ANGELS  REJOICING  IN  THE  GOSPEL. 


fellow-parishioners,     whose     condition 
they  cannot  improve  without  improving 
their  own,  whom  they  cannot  neglect 
without  bringing  themselves  in  a  mea- 
sure under  the  anathema  of  St.  Paul, 
"  If  any   provide  not  for  his  own,  and 
specially  for  those  of  his  own  house,  he 
hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than 
an  infidel."     We  appeal  to  the  visitors, 
if  such  there  he  present,  those  who  are 
sojourning  here  for  health  or  recreation. 
1  always  feel  as  if  we  owed  a  large  debt 
to  the  destitute  of  places  to  which  we 
resort,    when    worn    with    sickness,   or 
wearied   with  toil.     We   ought  not  to 
be  gladdened  by  their  landscapes,  with- 
out   striving    in    return    to    scatter   the 
precious  seed  of  God's  Word.     I  feel 
as    if   the    dwellers    in    the    Alps    and 
Pyrenees  had  a  claim  upon  me  for  the 
glorious  lessons  in  the  magnificence  of 
the  Creator  which  have  been  given  me 
iu    their    fastnesses.     1    feel    as    if  the 
Norwegian  might  call  upon  me  to  pay 
thankfully    for  the    notices  of  divinity 
which  have    been  thrown  to  me  from 
his  mighty  pinnacles,  his   vast  forests, 
his  everlasting  snows,  has  rushing  cata- 
racts.    And  I  cannot  tread  the  romantic 
parts  of  our  own  fair  land,  and  not  feel 
that  its  wild  and  beautiful    scenes,  its 
tangled  glens,  its  sunny  hills,  its  spark- 
ling   waters,   summon  us   not    to  show 
ourselves  ungrateful  for  the  having  ga- 
zed on  its  pictures,  but  to  strive,  in  re- 
turn, that  the  inhabitants  may  be  all  led 
to  the  river  of  life,  to  the  garden  of  the 
Lord.     And    ye    come  hither   to  draw 
health  from  the  waters  of  the  great  deep, 


to  awe  and  enchant  yourselves  with 
gazing  on  that  sublime  image  of  the 
Eternal  One,  glorious  and  wonderful, 
whether  the  skies  glass  their  azure  in  its 
unruffled  mirror,  or  the  tempest  have 
lashed  it  into  madness.  Will  you  enjoy 
the  sea,  and  care  nothing  whether  those 
who  inhabit  its  shores  know,  or  know 
not,  of  the  "  anchor  of  the  soul,  both 
sure  and  stedfast,  which  entereth  into 
that  within  the  vail  V  Again,  we  bring 
against  you  the  evangelist  to  whom  you 
have  dedicated  this  church.  We  are 
told,  by  St.  John,  that  in  the  new  heav- 
ens, and  the  new  earth,  there  shall  be 
"  no  more  sea."  The  sea  remains  till 
the  general  judgment,  gives  up  its  dead, 
aud  then  disappears  from  the  renovated 
system.  Yet  ere  it  departs,  it  may  com- 
bine with  the  rest  of  creation  in  witness- 
ing against  us.  The  sun  shall  witness, 
if  we  have  abused  the  brilliant  daylight 
to  works  of  iniquity.  The  darkness  shall 
witness,  if  we  have  employed  its  mantle 
to  shroud  wickedness.  The  corn  and 
the  wine  shall  witness,  if  we  haveindulg- 
ed  inordinately  our  appetites.  The  gold 
shall  witness,  if  hoarded  avariciously,  or 
squandered  profligately.  And  the  sea 
shall  witness,  witness  with  its  roaring 
thunders,  and  its  wested  billows,  if  we 
have  enjoyed  its  beauty  and  its  blessing, 
and  done  nothing  to  gird  its  shores  with 
therockof  ages,  to  plant  the  cliffs  against 
which  it  breaks  with  those  spires  which 
often  serve  as  landmarks  to  the  mariner 
on  its  surface,  whilst  they  point  him 
moreover  to  a  haven  of  everlasting  rest. 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


30J 


SERMON   YII 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


'  T.Ke.L°,d  G°d  h?th  ffiren  me  the  ton^lle  of  the  'earned,  that  I  should  know  how  to  snenk  -,  mn|  ;„  .    t! 

that  ls  weary:  he  wakeneth  morning  by  morning;  he  wakeneth  mine  ear  To  heir 1 ftS^-CffiS  1°  t 


It  is  generally  admitted,  that  the 
speaker  of  these  words  is  the  Messiah, 
the  second  person  of  the  ever-blessed 
Trinity,  who  anticipated,  as  it  were, 
his  assuming  our  nature,  and  spake  as 
though  He  had  already  appeared  in  the 
flesh.  The  chapter  commences  with  an 
address  from  Jehovah  Himself:  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,  "Where  is  the  bill  of  your 
mother's  divorcement,  whom  I  have  put 
away  1  or  which  of  my  creditors  is  it  to 
whom  I  have  sold  you  1"  The  address, 
you  observe,  is  in  the  first  person — Je- 
hovah Himself  speaks,  not  the  prophet 
in  his  name.  And  since  this  form  of 
address  is  continued  throughout  the 
chapter,  there  being  no  discoverable 
change  in  the  party  who  speaks,  we  must 
conclude  that  it  is  Jehovah  who  gives 
utterance  to  our  text,  however  inappro- 
priate, at  first,  the  words  may  seem  to 
a  person  of  the  Godhead. 

But  if  the  speaker  be  Jehovah,  He 
must  evidently  be  Jehovah  in  some  very 
peculiar  position  and  character  ;  for  not 
only  does  He  represent  Himself  in  our 
text  as  a  scholar — and  even  this  appears 
incongruous  with  Deity — but  He  goes 
on  to  represent  Himself  as  a  sufferer, 
a  sufferer  in  no  ordinary  measure.' 
"  The  Lord  God  hath  opened  mine  ear, 
and  I  was  not  rebellious,  neither  turned 
away  back.  I  gave  my  back  to  the 
smiters,  and  my  cheeks  to  them  that 
plucked  off  the  hair ;  I  hid  not  my  face 
from  shame  and  spitting."  If  you  took 
away  all  knowledge  of  the  scheme  of 
our  redemption,  it  would  be  utterly  in- 


*  Preached  at  the  Festival  of  the 
Clergy,  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  1844. 


of  the 


explicable  how,  in  a  chapter  where  there 
is  no  change  of  person,  it  should  be  said 
in  one  part,  "  I  clothe  the  heavens  with 
blackness,  and  I  make  sackcloth  their 
covering;"  and  in   another,  "I    hid  not 
my  face  from  shame  and  spitting."     But 
all  difficulty  vanishes,  when  we  have  in 
our  hands  the  history  of  a  being  who  is 
described  as  "  over  all,  God  blessed  for 
ever,"*  as  "  the    Word"  that  "  was   in 
the  beginning  with  God,"t  and  that  "  was 
God,"  and  of  whom  nevertheless  we  find 
it  recorded,  "  Then  did  they  spit  in  his 
face,  and  buffeted  him,  and  others  smote 
him  with  the  palms  of  their  hands."| 
There  is  no  such  book  of  contradictions 
as  the  Bible,  if  there  be  no  person  who 
is  both  human  and  divine.     Nothing  but 
such  a  combination  will  make  sense  of 
the  Bible,  or  rescue  it  from  containino- 
a  vast  mass  of  inconsistencies.     Some 
may  think    that    it    would    simplify  the 
Christian  theology,  to   remove  from  it 
the  mystery  that  two  natures  coalesced 
in  the  one  person  of  Christ.     But  as  the 
divinity  of  our  Lord  is  the  foundation 
of  our  hope,  so  is  it  the  key  to  the  Bi- 
ble :   we  acknowledge  reverently  a  great 
mystery,    but  not  the  thousandth    part 
as  great  as  the  whole  Bible  becomes  on 
the    supposition    that   Christ  was   only 
man. 

We  shall  assume,  therefore,  through- 
out our  discourse,  that  the. being  who 
speaks  in  our  text  is  the  second  person 
of  the  ever-blessed  Trinity ;  and  that 
He  speaks  in  that  character  of  a  medi- 
ator which  He  had  covenanted  from  all 


Rom.ix.  5.    t  St.  John  i.  2.    {  Matt.  xxvi.  67 


310 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


eternity  to  bear,  and  which  required  that, 
in  "  the  fulness  of  time,"  He  should  be 
made  flesh,  and  dwell  amongst  men.  It 
may  indeed  seem  strange  that  a  person 
of  the  Godhead  should  speak  of  Him- 
self in  the  terms  here  employed,  "  The 
Lord  God  hath  given  me  the  tongue  of 
the  learned  :  he  wakeneth  morning  by 
morning  ;  he  wakeneth  mine  ear  to  hear 
as  the  learned."  These  expressions  ap- 
pear to  belong  to  a  being  who  is  purely 
a  recipient,  who  depends  on  some  high- 
er being  for  power  and  instruction  :  can 
they  then  be  appropriate  to  one  in  whom 
dwelleth  all  fulness,  who,  in  place  of  re- 
quiring to  have  knowledge  communica- 
ted, is  Himself  none  other  than  the  Om- 
niscient I  Certainly  not,  if  there  be  no 
capacity  in  which  we  may  regard  Christ 
but  that  of  a  person  of  the  Godhead. 
Survey  Him  however  in  his  capacity  of 
Mediator — a  capacity  in  which,  as  man, 
He  was  progressive  in  wisdom,  and  in 
which  He  had  to  seek  and  obtain  sup- 
plies of  strength  from  above — and  such 
expressions  are  every  way  applicable  : 
undoubtedly  they  set  Him  before  us  as 
"  inferior  to  the  Father  ;"  but  we  are  as 
ready  to  confess  Him  "  inferior  to  the 
Father  as  touching  his  manhood,"  as  we 
are  earnest  to  maintain  Him  "  equal  to 
the  Father  as  touching  his  Godhead." 

But  when  it  has  been  affirmed  that  the 
expression  in  our  text,  though  denoting 
inferiority  in  office,  is  not  necessarily  at 
variance  with  the  doctrine  of  the  divin- 
ity of  Christ,  we  may  acknowledge  that 
the  language  here  employed  of  Himself 
by  the  Redeemer,  is  such  as  perhaps  we 
could  hardly  have  expected.  We  refer 
now  to  that  process  of  instruction  which 
is  so  emphatically  described,  the  Son 
being  represented  as  the  pupil  or  schol- 
ar of  the  Father,  and  the  teaching  being 
spoken  of  as  unwearied  and  continual. 
"  He  wakeneth  morning  by  morning  ; 
he  wakeneth  mine  ear  to  hear  as  the 
learned."  There  is  here  portrayed  a 
course  of  education  :  the  Lord  God  re- 
sumes every  day  the  lessons  which  were 
to  qualify  the  Son  for  his  office  :  in  so 
brief  a  description,  you  could  not  have 
the  figures  more  strikingly  displayed  of 
a  teacher  most  earnest  in  giving,  and  of 
a  scholar  as  earnest  in  receiving  instruc- 
tion. But  the  assertion  of  St.  Luke  is 
evidence  enough  that  a  delineation  such 
as  this  is  not  inappropriate  to  the  Lord 
our  Redeemer.     "  And  Jesus  increased 


in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favor  with 
God  and  man."*  This  assertion  is  re- 
markable. It  not  only  puts  Christ,  in 
certain  great  respects,  on  a  par  with  our- 
selves— for  by  speaking  of  growth  both 
in  wisdom  and  stature,  the  Evangelist 
represents  the  soul,  like  the  body,  as  in 
advancement  or  progress — but  by  sta- 
tin? that  He  grew  "  in  favor  with  God 
and  man,"  it  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
there  was  an  ever-increasing  conformity 
on  the  part  of  the  Mediator  to  the  will 
of  the  Father.  Not,  of  course,  that  at 
any  time  could  Christ  have  been  reluc- 
tant to  do  God's  will.  But  this  will  may 
have  been  only  gradually  disclosed,  and, 
as  fast  as  disclosed,  consented  to  by 
Christ.  Who  can  tell  us  how  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  became  informed,  as  He 
grew  up,  of  the  nature  of  the  mediatori- 
al office  1  how,  as  He  advanced  from 
infancy  to  childhood,  and  from  child- 
hood to  manhood,  He  acquired  greater 
knowledge  as  to  the  business  of  his  mis- 
sion, and  deepened  in  resolution  to  do 
the  will  of  his  Father  1  But,  in  the  very 
expressive  language  of  the  text,  God 
may  have  "  wakened  him  morning  by 
morning."  Day  by  day,  so  soon  as  there 
was  intelligence  enough  in  the  child  to 
receive  such  stupendous  communica- 
tions, did  the  Lord  God,  we  may  believe, 
impart  information  as  to  the  purposes  for 
which  He  had  been  born;  so  that  the  child 
"grew  in  wisdom,"  not  only  because, 
like  other  children,  He  grew  in  acquaint- 
ance with  ordinary  things,  but  especially 
because  He  acquired  understanding  of 
that  vast  scheme  of  deliverance  which 
the  wisdom  of  God  had  from  all  eternity 
devised.  It  were  presumption,  or  worse, 
to  inquire  in  what  degrees,  or  by  what 
successive  steps,  the  instruction  was 
given  ;  or  at  what  time  in  his  life  the 
man  Christ  Jesus  became  aware  of  all 
the  endurances  that  would  be  required 
of  Him  in  the  mediatorial  work.  But 
our  text  seems  to  forbid  doubt  that  the 
communications  were  gradual,  so  that, 
morning  by  morning,  was  something 
new  told,  till  at  last  the  whole  task  of 
labor,  ignominy,  and  death,  lay  spread 
before  the  view  of  the  Surety  of  our 
race.  What  lessons  were  these  which, 
day  by  day,  the  Saviour  wakened  to  re- 
ceive 1  lessons  as  to  the  lost  condition  of 
man,  the  dreadfulness  of  Divine  wrath, 


Luke  ii.  52. 


THE  WORD   IN  SEASON. 


311 


the  fearful  immenseriess  of  the  undertak- 
ing proposed  to  Him  as  a  substitute  for 
sinners.  And  He  shrunk  not  as  these  les- 
sons were  given — "  The  Lord  God  hath 
opened  mine  ear;  and  1  was  po1  rebel- 
lious, neither  turned  away  back."* 

But  over  and  above  the  instruction  of. 
Christ  in  the  nature  of  the  mediatorial 
work,  we  may  believe  that  God  waken- 
ed Him  morning  by  morning,  in  order 
that  He  might  have  those  "treasures  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge,"  which  were 
to  fit  Him  for  the  great  office  of  teacher 
of  the  nations.  The  Spirit  was  given 
to  Him  without  measure  ;  and  none  can 
doubt  that,  during  the  many  years  which 
our  Lord  passed  in  retirement,  this 
Divine  agent  was  gradually  preparing 
Him  to  speak  as  never  man  spake,  to 
deliver  utterances  which  should  scatter 
the  darkness  of  ages,  and  pour  a  flood 
of  light  over  the  duties  and  destinies  of 
our  race.  You  have  this,  in  fact,  assert- 
ed in  the  text;  for  not  only  is  a  process 
of  instruction  there  attributed  to  God, 
but  the  result  of  that  process  is  une- 
quivocally alleged,  in  that  God  is  said  to 
have  given  unto  Christ  "  the  tongue  of 
the  learned."  "  The  tongue  of  the  learn- 
ed ! " — I  imagine  myself  placed  in  the 
world  at  the  time  when  the  Christ  was 
expected,  commissioned  to  announce  to 
it  that  God  was  about  to  send  his  own 
Son,  having  endowed  Him  with  "  the 
Tongue  of  the  learned."  What  excite- 
ment in  all  the  schools  of  philosophy  ! 
what  gatherings  of  the  sages  of  the  earth  ! 
what  expectations  of  the  discoveries  with 
which  science  was  about  to  be  enriched! 
Now,  say  they,  shall  long-hidden  secrets 
be  revealed  :  now  shall  we  understand 
the  motions  of  stars:  now  shall  we  pene- 
trate the  laboratories  of  nature,  and  ob- 
serve all  those  processes  of  which,  at  pre- 
sent, we  see  only  the  results.  For  what 
purpose  can  "  the  tongue  of  the  learn- 
ed" have  been  given  to  a  Divine  person, 
if  not  that  He  may  expound  n.ysleries  to 
the  world,  that  He  may  tell  as  what  the 
wise  have  been  unable  to  detect,  and  the 
studious  labored  in  vain  to  unfold  ] 

But  this  Divine  person  shall  speak 
for  Himself  to  the  assembled  throng  of 
philosophers  and  sages.  Yes,  "  the 
Lord  God  hath  given  me  the  tongue  of 
the  learned ; "  and  I  have  descended 
„bat  I  might  speak  with  that  tongue  to 


Isaiah  1.  5. 


every  nation  of  the  earth.  But  He  hath 
not  given  me  the  tongue,  that  I  might 
tell  how  stars  and  planets  roll.  He 
hath  not  given  it  me,  that  I  might  settle 
the  disputes  of  the  wise,  that  I  might 
solve  the  curious  questions  propounded 
in  your  academies,  and  clear  the  para- 
doxes in  which  you  an;  entangled.  He 
hath  given  me  the  tongue,  not  that  I 
should  know  how  to  speak  a  word  to  you, 
ye  "  dispute?  s  of  this  world  ;  "  nor  to  you, 
ye  diligent  students  of  the  wonders  of 
the  universe,  whose  marchings  are  on 
the  firmament,  and  whose  searchings 
into  the  depths;  but  simply  "that  I 
should  know  how  to  speak  a  word  in 
season  to  him  that  is  weary."  Oh,  how 
fallen  are  the  expectant  countenances 
of  philosophers  and  sages  !  Is  this  all? 
they  exclaim.  Was  it  only  for  this  that 
"  the  tongue  of  the  learned  "  was  be- 
stowed] Does  this  require,  or  can  this 
employ,  "  the  tongue  of  the  learned]  " 
Nay,  men  of  science,  turn  not  angrily 
away.  With  all  your  wisdom  you  have 
never  been  able  to  do  this.  The  weary 
have  sought  to  you  in  vain.  They  have 
found  no  "  word  in  season,"  no  word 
of  comfort  and  sustainment ;  and  why 
then  should  you  be  indignant  at  the 
province  here  assigned  to  "  the  tongue 
of  the  learned  ]  "  There  is  no  better 
description  to  be  given  of  the  world, 
under  a  moral  point  of  view,  at  the  time 
when  the  Redeemer  appeared,  than  is 
contained  in  the  one  emphatic  word 
"  weary."  The  Gentiles  were  "  weary  " 
with  fruitless  searchings  after  truth  ;  the 
Jews  were  "  weary  "  with  long  expect- 
ing of  the  Christ.  In  vain  had  reason 
striven  to  form  some  definite  conception 
of  man's  position  with  reference  to  God, 
of  his  future  condition,  of  his  possibili- 
ties of  acceptance  and  happiness.  Truth 
had  evaded  inquiry  ;  and  the  "  weary," 
unable  to  abstain  altogether  from  the 
search,  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  dis- 
gusted with  a  philosophy  which  did  but 
perplex,  and  darkened  by  speculations 
which  ended  in  conjecture  when  cer- 
tainty was  sought.  And  even  where 
there  was  the  knowledge  of  a  promised 
deliverer,  it  might  be  said,  in  the  wise 
man's  words,  that  "  hope  deferred  had 
made  the  heart  sick  ;  "*  so  long  had 
the  Redeemer  been  looked  for  by  the 
faithful,  that  they  were  almost  tempted 

*  frov.  xiii.  12. 


'312 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASOW. 


to  ask  whether  God  had  not  indeed 
"  forgotten  to  be  gracious"?  "* 

And  what  tongue  but  "the  tongue  of 
the  learned"  could  speak  "a  word  in 
season,"  to  a  world  oppressed  with  this 
universal  weariness  1  The  tongue  must 
be  one  which  could  disclose  the  mys- 
teries of  Godhead,  mysteries  immeasur- 
ably transcending  those  of  stars  in  their 
courses.  It  must  be  one  which  could 
prove  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  a 
truth  debated  by  the  most  skilful  phi- 
losophers, and  left  undetermined.  It 
must  be  charged  with  intelligence  as  to 
the  pardon  of  sin,  as  to  a  mode  of  recon- 
ciliation between  man  and  his  Maker, 
things  into  which  even  angels  had  in 
vain  striven  to  look — no  marvel  then  if 
the  best  of  human  reasoners  had  reached 
no  conclusion,  unless  one  which  con- 
signed to  despair.  And  this  tongue 
moreover  must  be  able  to  expound  an- 
cient Scriptures,  to  illustrate  the  wri- 
tings of  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  which 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  sages  of  the 
land,  had  not  so  much  rendered  plain, 
as  shown  to  be  difficult.  Did  not  then 
"  the  weaiy  "  require  "  the  tongue  of  the 
learned  ;"  could  any  tongue  but  "  the 
tongue  of  the  learned  "  have  addressed 
them  with  seasonable  words  1  Indeed 
it  was  not  human  learning  which  could 
have  clothed  the  tongue  with  appropri- 
ate speech.  But  this  only  magnifies  the 
learning,  showing  that  it  must  be  derived 
from  a  higher  than  any  earthly  school, 
even  from  a  heavenly  instructor. 

And  yet  there  is  no  reason  why  the 
throng  of  sages  and  philosophers  should 
go  away  disappointed  at  finding  for 
what  purpose  "the  tongue  of  the  learn- 
ed "  would  be  used.  They  too  were 
"  weary,"  not  less  weary  with  searching 
after  truth  in  other  departments,  than 
with  inquiring  after  it  in  regard  to  reli- 
gion. And  if  the  Mediator  did  not  come 
purposely  to  relieve  this  weariness,  it 
has  happened  that  his  "  word  in  season" 
to  man,  as  an  immortal,  accountable 
being,  has  been  a  "word  in  season  "  to 
him  as  a  rational  and  thinking — every 
science  having  seemed  to  flourish 
through  contact  with  Christianity,  and 
reason  having  been  strengthened  by  re- 
velation, whether  received  or  rejected. 
So  that,  whilst  we  do  not  say  that  in 
claiming  for  Himself  "  the  tongue  of 


Ps.  lxxvii.  9. 


the  learned,"  Christ  designed  to  nse  t  s 
word  "learned  "  in  its  ordinary  accepta- 
tion, we  may  safely  affirm  that  his  tongue 
has  been  practically  that  which  has  shed 
abroad  knowledge.  He  spake  not  with 
the  tongue  of  the  philosopher;  but,  as 
though  all  philosophy  were  embodied 
in  Christianity.  He  could  not  speak 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  opened, 
without  opening  to  the  gaze  of  science 
the  mighty  fields  of  space  :  He  could 
not  speak  of  death  as  abolished,  without 
abolishing  the  delusions  which  had  im- 
posed themselves  upon  reason  fortruths : 
He  could  not  speak  of  man  as  freed  from 
the  curse,  without  freeing  his  mind  from 
shackles,  and  giving  it  to  range  through 
earth,  sea,  air.  Then  there  was  no  need 
that  any  class  should  depart  disappoint- 
ed, when  the  Redeemer  announced  the 
office,  in  order  to  fit  Him  for  which  the 
Lord  God  had  wakened  Him  "  morning 
by  morning."  The  "  weary,"  to  whom 
He  specially  came,  were  indeed  those  on 
whom  was  heavily  pressing  the  felt  bur- 
den of  sin.  But  the  whole  creation  was 
groaning  and  travailing  in  pain.  Every 
where  there  was  mistake,  or  deceit,  or 
fruitless  inquiry,  or  disappointed  hope. 
Weariness  was  on  all  hands,  on  all  pur- 
suits— the  man  of  science,  whom  truth 
seemed  perpetually  to  elude  ;  the  man 
of  pleasure,  who  found  nothing  that 
could  satisfy;  the  man  of  ambition, 
who  chased  shadows  for  substances — 
weariness  was  upon  them  all.  And 
the  "  word  in  season  "  was  unto  them 
all — a  word  which,  like  that  originally 
uttered  by  God,  seemed  to  make  all 
things  new,  for  it  laid  open  the  universe, 
if  it  did  not  create  ;  a  word  which  gave 
to  human  desire  things  even  richer  than 
it  could  compass  ;  a  word  which  crowd- 
ed eternity  with  palaces  and  thrones  ; 
not  phantoms,  but  realities.  Oh,  why 
might  not  every  tribe  and  every  indi- 
vidual upon  the  earth,  have  joined  in  one 
thankful  confession,  that  unto  Christ 
had  been  given  "the  tongue  of  the 
learned,"  and  that  too  for  the  express 
purpose  in  each  separate  case,  that  He 
might  "  know  how  to  speak  a  word  in 
season  to  him  that  was  weary  1  " 

But  let  us  confine  ourselves  especially 
to  those  cases  of  weariness  which  must 
have  been  primarily  referred  to  by 
Christ,  cases  to  which,  when  He  came 
to  the  accomplishment  of  his  office,  He 
addressed    the    beautiful  words,  Come 


THE  WORD   IN  SEASOX. 


313 


unto  me,  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."*  Is 
there  any  suitableness  to  these  cases  in 
"the  tongue  of  the  learned  ?  "  was  there 
room  for  the  exercise  of  such  a  tongue, 
or  was  such  a  tongue  needed,  when 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  the 
speaking  "  a  word  in  season"  to  parties 
thus  burdened  ?  This  is  a  point  well 
deserving  attention.  The  "  tongue  of 
the  learned  "  might  seem  to  be  called 
for,  if  there  were  knotty  questions  to 
settle,  or  thorny  controversies  to  recon- 
cile ;  but  what  will  it  find  to  do  where 
conscience  is  ill  at  ease,  or  the  heart 
wrung  with  sorrow?  Indeed,  if  you 
take  learning  in  its  ordinary  sense,  if 
you  were  to  send  what  is  commonly 
called  a  learned  man,  and  in  his  capa- 
city of  a  learned  man,  to  the  terrified 
sinner,  or  the  weeping  mourner,  it  is 
likely  that  he  would  be  quite  out  of 
place,  that  all  his  science  would  fail  to 
supply  the  "  word  in  season."  And, 
nevertheless,  there  is  a  learning  which  is 
needed,  a  deep  acquaintance  with  the 
heart  and  its  workings,  a  thorough  know- 
ledge of  the  springs  and  sources  of  moral 
disquietude,  and  as  thorough  a  know- 
ledge of  the  remedies  provided  by  God. 
They  are  vastly  mistaken  who  think, 
that  then  only  is  a  man  showing  him- 
self" learned,"  when  he  is  bringing  forth 
the  stores  of  a  ponderous  erudition, 
quoting  classical  authors,  adducing  his- 
torical facts,  or  explaining  natural  phe- 
nomena. In  the  cottages  of  the  poor, 
where  there  are  consciences  to  be 
probed,  and  cares  to  be  soothed,  he 
may  be  as  much  applying  the  results 
of  long  study,  and  using  riches  accumu- 
lated in  memory,  as  when  he  carries  on 
a  controversy,  employing  the  weapons, 
and  displaying  the  resources,  of  a  most 
accomplished  scholarship.  There  is  no 
volume  so  obscure,  none  so  full  of  deep 
and  dark  things,  as  the  human  heart; 
and  he  must  be  well  read  in  this  vol- 
ume, who  would  "  speak  a  word  in  sea- 
son." It  is  easy  enough  to  speak  a 
word  out  of  season,  to  cry  "  Peace, 
peace,  when  there  is  no  peace,"!  to 
apply  Scriptural  promises  before  the 
conscience  is  sufficiently  probed,  and 
even  to  withhold  them  when  the  time 
for  healing  has  come — but  "  the  word 
.n  season,"  the  suitable  truth  at  the  suit- 


Matt,  xi. 


able  time,  the  message  which  shall  ex- 
actly meet  the  case,  and  vary  with  its 
every  variation,  "the  tongue  of  the 
learned"  can  alone  deliver  this,  and  tho 
Lord  God  alone  can  bestow  that  tongue-. 
But  how  precisely  did  Christ  fulfil  the 
prophetic  description ;  how  truly  was 
his  tongue  the  "tongue  of  the  learned," 
in  that  it  spake  the  "  word  in  season  " 
to  the  weary.  "  He  knew  what  was 
in  man :  "*  He  needed  not  that  any 
should  teach  Him  :  his  acquaintance 
with  all  the  windings  and  depths  of  the 
heart  was  such  as  could  not  have  been 
obtained  by  any  finite  understanding. 
And  He  so  adapted  his  discourse  to 
these  windings  and  depths,  that  He  left 
no  case  unprovided  for,  but  with  a  won- 
derful skill  delivered  a  seasonable  word 
for  every  instance  of  weariness.  He 
was  "learned,"  in  that  his  comprehen- 
sive knowledge  took  in  all  the  possible 
varieties  of  human  want;  he  was  "  learn- 
ed," in  that  this  knowledge  embraced 
also  the  appropriate  supply  for  each  of 
these  varieties.  And  "  the  tongue  of  the 
learned  "  was  employed  when,  whether 
by  his  own  mouth,  or  by  that  of  those 
whom  He  commissioned  to  teach,  utter- 
ances were  delivered  which  have  served, 
and  will  serve  to  the  very  end  of  time, 
to  furnish  to  all  cases  of  weariness  a 
precise  "  word  in  season."  It  is  one  of 
the  standing  witnesses  to  the  Divine 
origin  of  Scripture,  or,  which  is  nearly 
the  same,  to  the  Divine  mission  of  Christ, 
that  the  Bible,  though  not  a  large  book, 
contains  something  adapted  to  every 
possible  case ;  so  that  no  one  can  go  in 
faith  and  humility  to  that  volume,  and 
not  find  it  like  an  oracle  whence  come 
the  responses  of  God  ;  or  like  the  high 
priest,  in  the  glorious  days  of  Jerusalem, 
on  whose  breastplate  the  Urim  and  the 
Thummim  gave  revelation  of  the  mind 
of  Jehovah.  We  cite  "  the  weary  and 
heavy  laden  "  as  witnesses  to  this.  Is 
there  the  grief,  is  there  the  care,  for  the 
one  of  which  there  is  nothing  alleviating 
in  Scripture,  or  for  the  other  nothing 
soothing?  What  tear  is  there  which 
might  not  be  dried,  what  sigh  which 
might  not  be  hushed,  if,  in  place  of  hav- 
ing recourse  to  the  enchantments  of  the 
world,  men  would  betake  themselves  to 
the  Bible,  and  seek  there  for  consola- 
tion in  the  midst  of  their  troubles  ?     Is 

*  John  ii.  25. 


314 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


the  weariness  that  of  one  who  sits  down 
oppressed  with  multiplied  anxieties'? 
how  seasonable  is  the  word,  "  Casting 
all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth 
for  you,"*  or  this  that  was  spoken  per- 
sonally by  Him  who  had  "  the  tongue  of 
the  learned,"  "  If  God  so  clothe  the 
grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  how 
much  more  shall  he  clothe  you,  O  ye 
of  little  faith. "t  Is  the  weariness  that 
resulting  from  disappointed  expecta- 
tions 1  what  "  a  word  in  season  "  is  there 
here !  "  God  hath  begotten  you  again 
to  a  lively  hope  by  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead,  to  an  in- 
heritance incorruptible,  undefiled,  and 
that  fadeth  not  away."J  Is  the  man 
"  weary  "  with  the  loss  of  friend  after 
friend,  "  weary  "  in  that  the  grave  seems 
insatiable,  and  continually  demands 
fresh  victims  from  amongst  those  whom 
he  loves  1  There  are  many  "  words  in 
season  "  for  such  an  one  as  this  :  "  There 
is  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a 
brother,"§  might  have  seemed  spoken 
on  purpose  for  him;  and  had  he  been 
personally,  he  could  not  have  been  more 
appropriately  addressed  than  in  the  ad- 
monition of  the  Apostle,  "  I, would  not 
have  you  to  be  ignorant  concerning 
them  which  are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow 
not  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope. 
For  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and 
rose  again,  even  so  them  also  which 
sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with 
him. "||  Or  is  the  weariness  not  so  much 
that  of  one  oppressed  with  losses,  as  of 
one  distressed  with  apprehensions,  be- 
fore whom  the  future  seems  dark,  and 
round  whom  dangers  are  gathering] 
O  what  "  words  in  season  "  are  there 
here — "When  thou  passest  through  the 
waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and  through 
the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee  :"fl 
"  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever; 
he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto  death."** 
And  let  a  man  feel  "  weary  "  as  a  sin- 
ner, "weary"  under  the  load  of  guilt, 
original  and  actual,  "  weary  "  with  de- 
vising methods  of  his  own  for  turning 
away  the  wrath  which  transgression 
must  provoke;  and  then  will  "the 
tongue  of  the  learned  "  address  him  in 


*  1  Pet.  v.  7.  t  Matt.  vi.  30. 

\  1  Pet.  i.  4.  §  Prov.  xviii.  24. 

||  1  Tbess.  iv.  13,  1 4.       IT  Isaiah  xliii.  2. 
**  Psalm  xlviii.  14. 


language  which  shall  accomplish  the 
saying,  "  As  cold  waters  to  a  thirsty  soul, 
so  is  good  news  from  a  far  country."* 
It  were  vain  to  send  him  to  Natural 
Theology,  which  cannot  tell  him  of  a 
propitiation  for  sin.  It  were  vain  to 
refer  him  to  those  who  are  counted 
"  the  learned  "  of  the  earth;  for  "  the 
disputers  of  this  world"  have  left  un- 
solved, and  almost  unattempted,  the 
question,  "  How  should  man  be  just 
with  God  1  "t  But  refer  him,  in  this 
his  weariness,  to  Jesus,  the  "  one  Me- 
diator between  God  and  men,"!  who 
"  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  him- 
self,'^ and  presently  he  will  exclaim 
with  Solomon,  "  A  word  spoken  in  due 
season,  how  good  is  it!"||  Knowing 
himself  condemned,  how  seasonable 
will  be  the  word,  "  He  bare  our  sins  in 
his  own  body  on  the  tree  ;"fl  conscious 
of  inability  to  work  out  a  perfect  righte- 
ousness of  his  own,  how  much  in  season 
must  be  the  saying,  "  Christ  is  the  end 
of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one 
that  believeth."** 

But  in  order  that  the  "  word  in  sea- 
son "  may  be  applied  to  the  several 
cases,  Christ  has  been  pleased  to  ap- 
point an  order  of  men  in  his  Church, 
whose  special  office  it  shall  be  to  handle 
and  enforce  the  blessed  truths  of  his 
Gospel.  The  business  of  the  clergy- 
man is  that  of  speaking  "  a  word  in  sea- 
son "  to  the  weary,  and  verily  he  needs 
the  "  tongue  of  the  learned,"  that  he  may 
perform  so  varied  and  intricate  a  duty. 
Rightly  to  "divide  the  word  of  truth," 
to  avoid,  as  we  before  said,  the  speaking 
"  peace  where  there  is  no  peace,"  and 
to  speak  it  at  the  right  moment ;  to 
wield  the  threatenings  and  apply  the 
promises  of  Scripture. — "Who  is  suffi- 
cient for  these  things  ]  "  indeed  there  is 
required  "  the  tongue  of  the  learned  ;  " 
and  though  hnman  education  will  do 
much,  so  much  that  what  is  commonly 
called  "learning,"  is  not  only  advan- 
tageous, but  indispensable,  to  the  priest- 
hood in  their  dealings  with  the  sinful 
and  the  sorrowing,  God  alone  can  make 
the  clergyman  duly  skilful  and  faithful. 
It  is  no  light  thing  to  have  in  any  mea- 
sure the  charge  of  the  souls  of  our  fel- 
low-men ;   and   often  will  the  Christian 


*  Prov.  xxv.  25.  t  Job  ix.  2. 

tl  Tim.  ii.  5.  §  Heb.  ix.  26. 

||  Prov.  xv.  23.    If  I  Pet.  ii.  24.    **  Rom.  x.  4. 


THE  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


315 


minister  almost  sink  beneath  the  burden, 
feeling  that  it  would  indeed  be  insup- 
portable, were  it  not  for  such  "  a  word  in 
season  "  as  this,  "Cast  thy  burden  upon 
the  Lord,  and  he  shall  sustain  thee."* 
Alas,  that  the  burden  should  often  be 
aggravated ;  that,  harrassed  by  specta- 
cles of  distress  which  have  met  him 
in  his  parochial  rounds,  saddened  by 
the  plaints  of  the  widow,  and  by  the 
sighs  of  the  orphan,  he  should  have  to 
think  how,  but  too  possibly,  he  may 
leave  his  own  wife  to  similar  destitution, 
and  bequeath  the  like  poverty  to  his 
own  children  !  Nay  hut,  O  thou  who 
art  faithfully  doing  "  the  work  of  an 
evangelist,"t  there  is  "  a  word  in  sea- 
son" for  such  forebodings  as  these — 
"  Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will 
preserve  them  alive  ;  and  let  thy  widows 
trust  in  me."|  Neither  is  the  minister 
thrown  altogether  on  his  faith,  when  he 
would  draw  comfort  from  words  such 
as  these.  He  can  see  the  promise  ful- 
filled in  the  experience  of  the  families 
of  many  of  his  brethren  who  have  sunk 
into  the  grave  after  years  of  laborious 
usefulness.  Kind  friends  have  arisen 
to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  widow, 
and  to  provide  for  the  orphan,  stimu- 
lated by  the  feeling  that  a  life  of  de- 
votedness  at  the  Christian  altar  entails 
a  debt  of  gratitude  on  a  Christian  peo- 
ple. Not,  however,  that  it  can  yet  be 
said  that  this  feeling  has  sufficiently 
shown  itself  in  practical  results.  The 
life  of  devotedness  indeed  is  signally 
and  increasingly  exhibited.  They  may 
talk  of  what  is  heroic  and  disinterested, 
and  fetch  their  illustrations  from  the 
boastful  annals  of  the  brave  and  the 
bountiful — but  the  man  of  high  intel- 
lectual endowment,  of  varied  erudition, 
of  powers  which,  employed  on  secular 
pursuits,  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
command  distinction  and  wealth — this 
man,  consecrating  himself  to  some  ob- 
scure and  poverty-stricken  district,  con- 
tented to  wear  away  life  in  endeavors 
at  carrying  home  the  Gospel  to  the  in- 
mates of  the  courts  and  alleys  of  a  de- 
graded and  dissolute  neighborhood,  and 
that  too  on  a  pittance  which  barely  suf- 
fices to  keep  off  penury  from  his  house- 
hold whilst  he  lives,  and  fastens  it  on  it 
inevitably  when  he  dies  ;  nay,  we  can 
thank  God  that  the  ranks  of  the  Chris- 


*  Pa.  lv.  22.     t  2  Tim.  iv.  5.     $  Jer.  xlix.  11. 


tian  ministry  are  continually  furnishing 
such  spectacles  as  this  ;  but  we  claim 
for  them  the  giving  dignity  to  our  times; 
we  declare  of  them  that  they  leave 
hopelessly  behind  what  philosophy  evei 
taught,  or  chivalry  achieved.  The  days 
of  martyrs  and  confessors  have  not  de- 
parted :  amid  the  hovels  of  the  starving, 
and  at  the  bedsides  of  the  dying,  there 
is  now  the  like  devotedness  to  the  cause 
of  Christ  crucified,  ay,  and  as  thorough, 
and  as  prodigal,  an  abandonment  of 
self,  and  an  embracing  of  what  the  world 
counts  affliction,  as  when,  in  times  of 
fierce  persecution,  pure  religion  brought 
men  to  the  scat'Fold  and  the  axe.  I  dare 
not  say  that  it  is  well,  that  in  a  country  of 
unrivalled  opulence,  and  in  times  when 
God  hath  given  to  that  country  magni- 
ficent empire,  and  mighty  resources, 
there  should  be  the  multiplication  of 
inconsiderable  endowments,  as  though 
that  were  thought  enough  for  the  main- 
tenance of  a  clergyman,  which  would 
barely  suffice  for  that  of  an  artizan. 
But  it  is  well,  it  goes  far  towards  re- 
deeming the  character  of  the  age  from 
the  ignoble  and  the  selfish,  that  num- 
bers are  ready,  on  endowments  so  scanty, 
to  undertake  the  office  of  ministering  to 
the  poor. 

This,  however,  only  heightens  the 
probability  that  many,  now  laboring  in 
the  ministry,  will  leave  their  widows 
and  orphans  in  a  condition  of  depend- 
ence, not  to  say  destitution.  And  you 
are  to  endeavor  to  provide  against  this 
contingency.  You  are  not  only  to  ex- 
tend to  the  Corporation  of  the  Sons  of 
the  Clergy  such  support  as  it  has  been 
accustomed  to  receive;  you  are  entreat- 
ed greatly  to  increase  that  support,  to 
increase  it  not  only  by  present  contribu- 
tions, but  by  liberal  annual  subscrip- 
tions. If  small  benefices  are  to  be  mul- 
tiplied, the  funds  of  this  Corporation 
must  be  greatly  increased,  else  will 
there  be  a  spectacle  in  the  land  which 
cannot  fail  to  draw  upon  it  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  Lord;  the  spectacle  of  many 
families  grappling  witli  actual  want,  the 
families  of  men  who  labored  "  in  season 
and  out  of  season,"  that  they  might  win 
souls  to  Christ ;  who  counted  not  their 
lives  dear  to  them,  if  so  be  they  might 
bless  their  country — oh,  talk  not  of  mere 
patriotism  in  comparison  of  this — bless 
their  country  by  evangelizing  their 
countrymen. 


31-6 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


It  is  true  that  this  Festival  of  the 
Sons  of  the  Clergy  is  not  celebrated, 
as  have  been  those  of  preceding  years. 
There  is  not  the  same  departure  from 
the  ordinary  service  of  the  cathedral; 
for  it  has  been  wisely  judged  that  the 
pomp  of  an  orchestra  is  too  dearly 
purchased  by  the  suspension  of  daily 
prayer,  and  that  the  organ's  solemn 
swell,  as  it  alone  accompanies  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  chaunt,  ought  alone  to 
aid  you  when,  on  occasions  like  the  pre- 
sent, you  meet  to  praise  God,  "not  only 
with  the  lip,"  but  with  the  hearty  con- 
secration of  your  substance  to  his  cause. 
Ay,  ye  have  not  been  enticed  hither  to- 
day by  instrumental  melody ;  but  ye 
have  come  at  a  better  summons  ;  ye 
have  heard,  in  the  hours  of  private 
meditation,  the  voices  of  those  who  live 
only  that  they  may  "  speak  a  word  in 
season  to  the  weary  •"  ye  hare  heard 
also  their  prayers,  as,  unable  to  provide 
for  those  dearest  to  them  on  earth,  they 


have  meekly  committed  them  to  the  care 
of  the  Almighty.  And  ye  have  been 
moved  to  an  earnest  resolve  that  ye 
will  "  forsake  not  the  Levite,"*  as  long 
as  ye  live  upon  the  earth  ;  that  ye  will 
forsake  him  not  in  the  persons  of  the 
widow  and  the  orphan.  Ye  have  come 
hither  to  announce  and  act  on  this  re- 
solve— oh,  better  than  to  have  come  to 
listen  to  "  the  cornet  and  harp,  and  dul- 
cimer and  flute;"  ye  have  come  to  pro- 
vide, that  from  burdened  hearts,  and 
stricken  spirits,  there  shall  rise  the  notes 
of  gratitude  and  praise — "  the  blessing 
of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish  came 
upon  me,  and  I  caused  the  widow's 
heart  to  sing  for  joy."t 

"  Now  unto  him  that  is  able  to  do 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that 
we  can  ask  or  think,  according  to  the 
power  that  worketh  in  us,  unto  him  be 
glory  in  the  Church  by  Christ  Jesus 
throughout  all  ages,  world  without  end. 
Amen." 


SERMON   VIII.  t 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


'Then  came  the  word  of  the  Lord  by  Haggai  the  prophet,  saying,  Is  it  time  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell  in  your  cieled 
houses,  and  this  house  lie  waste  J " — Haqgai  i.  3,  4. 


Very  few  words  will  be  needed,  to 
put  you  in  possession  of  the  force  and 
bearing  of  this  passage,  as  originally 
delivered.  The  Jews  had  but  lately 
returned,  in  virtue  of  the  decree  of 
Cyrus  in  their  favor,  from  their  captiv- 
ity of  seventy  years  in  Babylon,  to 
which  they  had  been  sentenced  for 
their  own  sins  and  those  of  their  fathers. 
Very  shortly  after  their  return,  they  had 
commenced  the  rebuilding:  of  the  tem- 


*  Dent.  xii.  19.  t  Job  xxix.  13. 

t  Preached  at  Camden  Chapel,  after  reading 
the  Queen's  Letter  of  1839,  on  behalf  of  the  So- 
ciety  for  rebuilding  and  repairing  Churches. 


pie,  applying  themselves  to  it  as  the 
most  important  work,  like  men  who 
were  conscious  that  Jerusalem  could 
have  no  glory,  until  it  again  possessed 
the  sanctuary  of  the  Lord.  But  oppo- 
sition soon  arose :  the  adversaries  of 
Judah  and  Benjamin  sought  to  thwart 
the  design,  and  applied  to  the  court  of 
Persia  for  authority  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
building.  This  was  obtained  ;  and  we 
read  in  the  Book  of  Ezra,  "  Then 
ceased  the  work  of  the  house  of  God, 
which  is  at  Jerusalem.  So  it  ceased 
unto  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of 
Darius,  king  of  Persia." 

It  was  in  this  year,  as  we  learn  from 


CntTRCH   BUILDING. 


317 


tlie  opening  words  of  his  prophecy,  that 
Haggai  was  directed  to  address  the  mes- 
sage, of  which  our  text  is  a  part,  to  tlie 
Jews  generally,  but  especially  to  Zerub- 
babel,  the  governor,  and  Joshua,  the  high 
priest,  persons  who,  from  station  and  in- 
fluence, ought  to  have  been  earnest  in 
endeavors  to  promote  the  rebuilding  of 
the  temple,  though  they  would  seem  to 
have  been  chargeable  with  some  mea- 
sure of  remissness.  It  may  not  have 
been  altogether  a  matter  of  choice  with 
the  Jews,  whether  they  should  cease 
from  the  building,  when  the  decree 
against  them  had  been  obtained  by  their 
enemies.  It  is  possible,  however,  that 
they  were  too  ready  in  yielding,  having, 
perhaps,  been  secretly  not  displeased  at 
an  excuse  for  desisting  from  an  expen- 
sive and  laborious  undertaking.  We 
may  gather  this  from  observing  the 
terms  of  the  decree  :  for  it  was  gene- 
rally the  building  of  the  city,  and  not 
particularly  that  of  the  temple,  which 
was  prohibited  by  Artaxerxes.  "  Give 
ye  now  commandment  to  cause  these 
men  to  cease,  and  that  this  city  be  not 
bnilded,  until  another  commandment 
shall  be  given  from  me."  But  it  does 
not  appear  that  the  Jews  so  complied 
with  this  decree,  as  to  suspend  the 
building  of  the  city ;  though,  as  is  ex- 
pressly recorded,  they  left  off  working 
at  the  house  of  the  Lord.  We  gather 
sufficiently  from  our  text  that  they  had 
persisted  in  building  dwellings  for  them- 
selves, though  no  progress  had  been 
made  with  the  temple ;  and  we  can 
hardly  therefore  doubt  that  they  had 
suffered  themselves  to  be  unnecessarily 
deterred  from  a  work  which  they  were 
bound  to  have  prosecuted  in  preference 
to  every  other. 

But  however  the  case  may  have  stood 
immediately  on  the  issuing  of  the  decree, 
it  is  certain  that  afterwards  the  Jews 
made  frivolous  excuses  for  not  proceed- 
ing with  the  temple,  and  manifested  a 
reluctance  which  was  adapted  to  pro- 
voke the  fierce  anger  of  God.  It  was 
on  this  account  that  the  prophets  Hag- 
gai and  Zechariah  were  raised  up:  the 
chief  object  of  their  mission  was  to  rouse 
the  people  to  the  long-neglected  work, 
to  reprove  the  indolent,  and  encourage 
the  desponding.  You  learn  from  the 
verse  preceeding  our  text,  that  the  com- 
mon excuse  was  that  the  time  had  not 
arrived   at  which  the   building  of  the 


temple  could  be  advantageously  under- 
taken. "  This  people  say,  The  time  is  not 
yet  come,  the  time  that  the  Lord's  house 
should  be  built."  No  doubt  the  Jews 
argued,  that,  harassed  as  they  were  by 
enemies,  straitened  in  resources,  and 
still  dwelling  among  ruins,  they  were  in 
no  condition  to  rear  a  structure  which 
should  be  worthy  to  succeed  the  temple 
of  Solomon.  They  probably  made  the 
magnificence  of  the  former  sanctuary  a 
reason  for  delaying  the  work,  and  plau- 
sibly stated,  that  until  national  affairs 
were  a  little  more  settled,  it  would  not 
be  possible  for  them  to  rebuild  the  tem- 
ple with  adequate  splendor.  But,  all  the 
while,  they  were  not  only  building  them- 
selves houses,  but  sumptuous  houses — as 
the  expression  "  cieled  houses,"  which  is 
used  in  our  text,  may  be  considered  to 
denote.  And  this  was  enough  to  con- 
vict them  of  disinclination  to  the  work 
of  building  the  temple,  and  to  show  that 
their  excuses,  like  those  commonly  of 
men  who  defer  religious  duties  to  more 
convenient  seasons,*were  but  marks  of  a 
secret  resolve  to  escape,  if  possible,  alto- 
gether from  a  labor  which  must  interfere 
with  more  congenial  pursuits. 

Our  text  contains  the  abrupt  and  in- 
dignant expostulation  with  which  the 
prophet  was  directed  to  meet  the  ex- 
cuse as  to  the  time  not  being  come  for 
building  the  Lord's  house.  It  gives 
force  to  the  expostulation,  and  it  is  in- 
deed almost  required  by  its  terms,  that 
we  should  suppose  the  messenger  of 
God  planting  himself  in  the  midst  of 
Jerusalem  ;  houses,  which  were  almost 
palaces,  rising  on  the  one  side,  whilst 
on  the  other  were  the  foundations  of 
the  temple,  just  discernible  amid  the 
ruins  which  still  proclaimed  how  fierce 
had  been  the  vengeance  which  the  Chal- 
deans were  commissioned  to  execute. 
The  prophet  looks  reproachfully  on 
the  rulers  and  people,  as  they  hurry  to 
and  fro  in  their  several  pursuits,  caring 
nothing,  as  it  seemed,  for  the  desolation 
of  the  sanctuary.  They  guess  what  is 
passing  in  his  mind  :  they  cannot  fail  to 
interpret  his  meaning,  as  he  gazes  on 
the  fragments  of  the  once  glorious  tem- 
ple, and  then  turns  towards  them  with 
an  air  expressive  of  mingled  sorrow  and 
anger.  They  approach  him  in  the  hope 
of  softening  his  feelings;  for  they  know 
his  high  commission,  and  would  rather 
obtain  his  approval  than  endure  his  ic- 


318 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


buke.  They  plead  that  the  time  is  not 
come.  Far  be  it  from  them  to  deny 
that  the  temple  ought  to  be  rebuilt : 
they  not  only  confess  it,  but  quite  in- 
tend to  undertake  the  work,  when  they 
shall  be  so  circumstanced  as  to  have  a 
prospect  of  undertaking  it  with  success. 
Wait  a  while,  they  seem  to  say  to  the 
prophet :  you  do  us  wrong  in  suspecting 
that  it  is  through  our  indisposition  or 
sloth,  that  no  progress  has  been  made 
with  the  house  of  the  Lord  :  a  fit  season 
has  not  yet  arrived  ;  but  when  it  comes, 
you  shall  find  us  all  zeal  and  alacrity. 
I  mark  the  prophet  :  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  is  striving  within  him  ;  and  he 
seems  to  gather  his  strength  for  one  in- 
dignant and  overwhelming  reply.  He 
points  with  the  one  hand  to  structures, 
many  of  them  completed,  others  in  pro- 
gress, but  all  betokening  opulence;  and 
with  the  other  to  heaps  of  ruins,  which 
there  had  scarce  been  an  effort  to  re- 
move. The  former  are  the  residences 
of  the  men  who  aie  pleading  their  ina- 
bility to  build  the  house  of  the  Lord  : 
the  latter  cover  the  ground  on  which  a 
temple  ought  to  have  risen.  Ah,  there 
is  scarcely  need  that  he  should  speak  ; 
the  contrast  speaks  for  him  :  surely  the 
people  must  have  been  stricken  in  con- 
science, and  have  shrunk  away  without 
waiting  for  the  expression  in  language 
of  what  was  so  forcible  in  action.  But 
whether  they  paused  or  not  to  hear  the 
indignant  expostulation,  there  was  in- 
deed enough  to  expose  the  utter  hollow- 
ness  of  their  specious  excuse,  and  to 
prove  them  wilfully  neglectful  of  the 
highest  of  duties,  when  the  prophet, 
wiili  one  hand  directed  towards  their 
lofty  mansions,  and  with  the  other  to- 
wards the  dilapidated  temple,  brake  in- 
to the  upbraiding  and  energetic  ques- 
tion, "Is  it  time  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell 
in  your  cieled  houses,  and  this  house 
lie  waste  %"■ 

Now  you  are  aware  that  it,  is  our 
duty,  on  the  present  occasion,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  Queen's  letter,  which  was 
read  to  you  last  Sunday,  to  endeavor  to 
excite  you  to  liberal  contributions  on 
behalf  of  the  Incorporated  Society  for 
the  building  and  enlarging  of  churches 
throughout  England  and  Wales.  You 
will  judge  that  we  have  selected  our 
subject  of  discourse  with  reference  to 
the  occasion  ;  that  we  design  to  draw 
something   of    a    parellel    between   our 


own  circumstances  and  conduct,  and 
those  of  the  Jews  ;  to  endeavor,  that  is, 
to  derive  from  our  "cieled  houses" 
motives  to  increased  diligence  in  build- 
ing the  house  of  the  Lord.  We  shall 
therefore  analyze  more  minutely  the 
expostulation  of  the  text ;  for  it  will 
perhaps  be  found  to  assume  or  in- 
clude truths  which  may  be  over- 
looked on  a  cursory  inspection.  No 
doubt  there  are  points  of  view  under 
which  the  text  is  more  pertinent,  if  con- 
sidered as  addressed  to  the  Jews,  than 
when  transferred  to  ourselves,  who  live 
beneath  a  different  dispensation.  With 
the  Jews  it  might  almost  be  said  that 
the  very  existence  of  their  religion 
depended  on  their  restoring  their  tem- 
ple ;  many  of  its  most  important  rites 
and  ceremonies  could  only  be  perform- 
ed in  the  temple  :  so  that,  whilst  they 
had  no  sacred  structure,  with  its  cham- 
bers and  altars  and  mystic  furniture,  they 
were  literally  incapacitated  for  offering 
unto  God  such  services  as  his  law  had 
prescribed.  The  case  is  not  precisely 
the  same  with  ourselves  :  Christianity  is 
not  a  local  religion,  like  Judaism  ;  its 
ordinances  are  not,  in  the  like  sense  or 
degree,  limited  to  place  ;  and  though  un- 
]  doubtedly  the  want  of  a  church  would  ma- 
terially interfere  with  the  performance 
of  its  rites,  it  would  not  so  debilitate  the 
worshipper  as  to  leave  him,  like  the 
Jew,  unable  to  approach  God  in  his 
own  appointed  way. 

But  it  does  not  follow  from  this,  that 
we  are  less  criminal  than  the  Jew,  if, 
through  our  own  indolence  or  negli- 
gence, the  house  of  the  Lord  lie  in  any 
sense  waste.  It  may  be  one  of  the 
gracious  results  of  the  change  from 
Judaism  to  Christianity,  from  a  con- 
tracted to  a  more  ample  dispensation, 
that,  if  we  were  unavoidably  deprived 
of  a  church,  we  should  not,  on  that  ac- 
count, be  unavoidably  deprived  of  its 
ordinances.  But  this  does  not  show  us 
in  the  least  more  excusable,  if  we  our- 
selves cause  the  want  of  a  temple.  We 
may  be  better  able  than  the  Jew  to  do 
without  the  temple,  when  the  temple  is 
destroyed,  and  yet  be  to  the  full  as 
blameworthy  as  the  Jew,  if  it  be  through 
our  supineness  that  the  temple  is  not 
rebuilt.  The  temple  may  not  be  indis- 
pensable to  the  Christian,  as  it  was  to 
the  Jew — and  this  is  for  our  advan- 
tage when  there  is  no  temple  to  which 


CHURCH   BUILDING. 


319 


we  can  go  up  :  but  the  temple  may  be 
valuable  to  the  Christian  as  well  as  to 
the  Jew  ;  there  may  be  privileges  at- 
tached to  it,  which  we  have  no  right  to 
expect  elsewhere,  so  long  as  we  have, 
or  might  have,  its  courts  to  which  to  re- 
sort— and  this  is  for  our  condemnation, 
if  we  neglect  to  rear  the  house  of  the 
Lord. 

We    do   not  therefore  confound  our 
case  with   that  of  the  Jews,  though  we 
are  about  to  address  to  Christians  the  ex- 
postulation of  the  text,  as  if  the  change 
in  dispensation  had  made  no  difference 
in  its  pertinence  and  force.     These  few 
remarks    will    suffice   to  show   that   we 
quite  bear  in   mind  the  vast  difference, 
so  far  as  the  ordinances  of  religion  are 
concerned,  between   the  Jews  with  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem  in  ruins,  and  our- 
selves, for  example,  with  all  the  churches 
in  London  burnt  down.     We  undoubt- 
edly might,  in  a  great  measure,  keep 
our    Sabbaths,  offer    our    prayers,   dis- 
pense the  Sacraments,  preach  the  word, 
notwithstanding  the  disastrous  and  uni- 
versal conflagration  ;  though  not  so  the 
Jews,  who,   in  losing  the  temple,   lost 
well-nigh    the    power    of    worshipping 
God.       But    the     different    degrees    in 
which  ttie  two  would  be  affected  by  the 
loss    of  the  temple,  are  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  different  degrees  in  crimi- 
nality, if  the  two  be  alike  negligent  in 
rebuilding  the  temple.     There  may  be 
no  difference  in  the  latter,  whilst  there 
is  the  greatest  in  the  former.     And  this 
having  been  settled,  we  may  keep  the 
Jews  out  of  sight,  and  proceed,  when- 
ever Christians  are  to  be  upbraided  for 
neglecting,  or  urged  to  the  furthering, 
the  great    work   of  building    churches 
for    an   augmented    population,   to   ply 
them  with  the  expostulation  of  our  text, 
"  Is  it  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell  in  your 
cieled  houses,  and  this  house  lie  waste  1 " 
Now  we  have  thankfully  admitted  that 
Christianity,  unlike  Judaism,  is  not  tied 
to   places  ;   that  its    ordinances  may  be 
every    where    celebrated  ;    so   that    the 
wanderers  to  a  distant  island  may  carry 
the   system   with   them,  and   plant  it  as 
firmly  in  the  new  domain  as  ever  Juda- 
ism was  planted   in   Jerusalem,  though 
it   could  not  be  moved  thence  to    any 
other  city.     But   now  let  us  consider  a 
little  more  in  detail,  what  necessity  there 
is,  under  this  new  and  better  covenant, 
fot  structure?  devoted  to  sacred  uses,  or 


what  loss  is  it  to  us  if  "  this  house  lie 
waste."  It  hath  pleased  the  Almighty 
to  reveal  to  our  losl  world  a  method  of 
salvation  :  to  send  to  us  the  Gospel   of 

his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  which  makes 
known  a  way  in  which  the  guilty  may 
be  pardoned,  and  the  alienated  recon- 
ciled to  Himself.  In  the  first  instance, 
this  Gospel  was  published  with  super- 
natural evidences,  through  the  ministra- 
tions of  men  who  were  enabled  to  prove, 
through  the  miracles  which  they  work- 
ed, the  Divine  origin  of  the  doctrines 
which  they  taught.  And  something  of 
this  kind  might  have  continued.  Su- 
pernatural evidences  might  have  all 
along  accompanied  the  march  of  Chris- 
tianity, though,  as  every  one  must  per- 
ceive, these  evidences  would  have  need- 
ed to  be  augmented  and  varied,  foras- 
much as  the  miraculous,  if  frequently 
repeated,  will  pass  for  the  natural,  and 
the  deviation  from  a  law,  if  it  continu- 
ally occur,  will  come  to  be  regarded  as 
itself  the  law.  Or  it  is  quite  supposable, 
that,  in  place  of  a  general  and  standing 
demonstration  of  the  truth  of  Christian- 
ity, God  might  have  appointed  a  suc- 
cession of  individual  revelations;  so 
that,  whensoever  it  pleased  Him  to 
make  Christ  known  to  a  person,  there 
might  have  been  vouchsafed  to  that  per- 
son a  distinct  communication  from  Hea- 
ven, a  communication  which  should 
have  been  explicit  as  to  the  mode  of  a 
sinner's  acceptance,  and  which  should 
have  brought  with  it  its  evidence  that 
it  was  verily  the  word  of  the  Lord. 

But  it  is  altogether  contrary  to  the 
established  order  of  the  Providence  of 
God,  that  miracles  should  be  employed 
where  the  result  might  be  accomplished 
through  ordinary  means.  And  we  might 
therefore  justly  have  expected  what  we 
find  to  have  been  appointed — namely, 
that  the  propagation  of  Divine  truth, 
when  once  its  origin  had  been  sufficient- 
ly demonstrated,  was  left  to  no  super- 
natural instrumentality ;  it  was  entrusted 
to  the  Church,  furnished  as  that  Church 
was  with  the  written  word,  and  encour- 
aged to  expect  the  continued  aids  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  This  is  now  the  appointed 
course  of  things — namely,  that  the 
Church,  by  diffusing  the  written  word, 
and  devoting  an  order  of  men  to  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  is  to  labor  at 
bringing  men  into  acquaintance  with 
Christ  ancUhis  doctrine — not  that  either 


320 


CHURCH    BUILDING. 


the  written  word,  or  the  preacher,  can 
of  itself  be  effectual  to  produce  convic- 
tion and  renewal  ;  but  that  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  pleased  to  employ  this  instru- 
mentality, when  He  would  bring  men 
out  of  darkness  into  marvellous  light. 

And  there  is  very  little  difficulty, 
when  once  it  has  been  ascertained  that 
such  is  the  appointed  mode  for  the  pro- 
pagation of  truth,  in  seeing  that  the 
public  ordinances  of  religion  are  indis- 
pensable to  Christians,  even  as  they 
were  to  the  Jews.  Let  the  churches  of 
London,  as  we  have  already  said,  be  all 
consumed  in  one  vast  conflagration,  and 
you  do  not  put  our  metropolis  into  pre- 
cisely the  same  state  as  Jerusalem, 
with  her  one  temple  in  ruins.  We 
might  meet  in  private  houses  ;  we  might 
turn  rooms  into  sanctuaries  ;  and  thus 
remedy  in  a  measure  the  grievous  disas- 
ter— whereas  the  Jews  might  not  set  up 
altars,  except  on  one  spot,  not  celebrate 
the  mysteries  of  their  faith  in  any  but 
the  one  hallowed  structure.  Suppose 
however — for  here  lies  the  gist  of  the 
matter — that  the  solemn  assembly  ceas- 
ed from  amongst  us  ;  that  there  were 
no  longer  any  gathering,  whether  in 
dedicated  or  temporary  buildings,  for 
public  worship,  and  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  ;  what  would  then  be  our  re- 
ligious condition  1  would  it  be  better 
than  that  of  the  Jew,  with  no  temple  to 
frequent  1  We  believe  that  the  differ- 
ence would  be  practically  slight:  we 
have  the  advantage  over  the  Jew  in  that 
we  can  multiply  our  places  for  religious 
assembling,  but  not  in  that  we  may  be 
deprived  of  all  such  places,  and  yet  sus- 
tain no  real  injury.  Even  those  of  you 
who  may  be  counted  amongst  the 
righteous,  as  having  been  brought  to 
"repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  to- 
wards our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  would 
find  the  want  of  the  public  assembly — 
private  reading  of  the  word  would  never 
supply  the  place  of  its  public  preaching, 
nor  secret  meditation  that  of  the  Holy 
Communion  ;  and  that  too,  simply  be- 
cause having  chosen  and  appointed  a 
certain  instrumentality,  God  will  not 
sutfer  us  to  set  it  asiile  :  He  can  send 
grace  through  any  channel,  but  we  have 
no  right  to  look  for  it,  neither  is  it  or- 
dinarily given,  except  through  such 
channels  as  He  has  been  pleased  to  or- 
dain. 

And  if  even  the  righteous  would  suf- 


fer through  the  want  of  the  public  as- 
sembly, what  is  to  be  said  of  the  un- 
righteous, in  whom  there  hath  yet  to  be 
created  the  appetite  for  spiritual  food, 
and  who  cannot  therefore  be  expected 
to  study  the  written  word  in  search  of 
things  by  which  they  may  be  saved  ] 
It  would  be  almost  like  putting  a  final 
arrest  on  the  propagation  of  Divine 
truth,  to  close  all  our  churches,  and  si- 
lence all  our  ministers.  The  printing- 
press  might  be  increasingly  active  ;  it 
might  multiply  a  hundredfold  the  copies 
of  the  Bible  ;  and  an  industrious  agency 
might  insure  their  circulation,  so  that 
there  should  not  be  a  family,  and  scarce- 
ly an  individual,  unfurnished  with  the 
Scriptures.  But  it  is  only  saying  that 
it  pleaseth  God  "  by  the  foolishness 
of  preaching  to  save  them  that  believe," 
to  say  that  all  this  diffusion  of  the  writ- 
ten word  would  do  little  towards  saving 
the  country  from  utter  ignorance  and 
contempt  of  the  Creator  and  Redeemer. 
It  is  the  preaching  of  the  word  which 
ordinarily  produces  the  reading.  It  is 
commonly  in  consequence  of  something 
which  has  been  heard  in  the  sanctuary, 
that  a  man  is  induced  to  betake  himself 
to  the  study  of  the  Bible ;  a  text  has 
been  driven  home  to  his  conscience,  as 
uttered  by  the  minister  of  Christ,  and 
then  he  has  opened  and  examined  the 
book,  a  line  of  which  could  penetrate 
with  so  mysterious  a  force.  But  Bibles 
without  preachers  would,  for  the  most 
part,  be  Bibles  without  readers ;  and 
even  where  readers  were  found,  we  have 
little  warrant  for  thinking  that  much 
conversion  would  ensue  :  we  still  fall 
back  on  the  known  ordinance  of  God, 
who  has  made  the  pulpit,  not  the  press, 
the  great  engine  in  the  propagation  of 
the  Gospel  ;  and  we  argue  from  it,  that 
there  is  no  known  machinery  which 
could  supply  the  place  of  a  standing 
ministry,  ministering  with  full  authority, 
and  in  structures  set  apart  for  the  public 
service  of  God. 

So  that  we  can  safely  contend  for  the 
indispensableness,  under  the  existing 
dispensation, of  sanctuaries  or  churches, 
maintaining  that  cities,  without  these 
sacred  edifices,  would  be  cities  that  must 
ere  long  be  wholly  sunk  in  irreligion, 
and  occupied  by  a  population  with  no 
fear  of  God.  There  is  more  than  theory 
on  the  side  of  this  opinion,  though  the 
theory,  as  based  on  the  word  and  ordi- 


y 'miRCII    nCK.DINO. 


nance  of  God,  ought  itself  to  suffice  for 
conviction.  But  we  have  unhappily 
made  the  experiment,  and  are  therefore 
in  the  position  to  add  experience  to 
theory;  we  suffered  our  population 
vastly  to  outgrow  the  means  of  religious 
instruction,  so  that  parishes  numbered 
thousands,  whilst  parish  churches  held 
but  tens.  And  the  large  masses  of  hu- 
man beings,  for  whom  theie  were  thus 
virtually  no  temples  at  all,  became 
morally  degraded,  to  an  extent  which  it 
was  fearful  to  survey.  They  sunk,  we 
might  almost  say,  to  the  level  of  the 
Pagans,  the  only  thing  which  kept  them 
from  actual  equality  having  been  that 
influence  which  the  existing  Christianity 
puts  forth,  even  on  those  who  are  with- 
out its  pale,  or  who  know  nothing  more 
of  it  than  the  name.  But  to  the  disease 
thus  engendered,  we  have  applied,  in  a 
measure,  the  instituted  remedy.  We 
have  planted  churches  in  the  midst  of 
these  overgrown  masses,  and  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say,  that,  in  the  majority  of 
instances,  this  bringing  of  the  neglected 
into  contact  with  the  ministrations  of  the 
Gospel,  has  done  much  towards  over- 
coming profligacy,  and  reclaiming  num- 
bers who  seemed  hopelessly  dissolute; 
so  that,  as  though  the  want  of  a  church 
had  been  like  the  want  of  the  temple  in 
Jerusalem,  and  with  the  building  it  re- 
ligion had  revived,  the  moral  waste  has 
given  tokens  of  verdure,  and  borne  rich 
fruits  to  the  glory  of  God. 

You  are  not  therefore  to  think  that 
we  are  guilty  of  any  exaggeration,  when 
we  affirm  that  we  can  no  better  spare  our 
churches  than  the  Jews  could  their  tem- 
ple. I  know  that  inaspecial  manner  was 
tne  religion  of  the  Jews  identified  with 
their  temple,  so  that  Jerusalem  without 
its  temple,  was  not  merely  Jerusalem,  it 
was  the  whole  of  Judea,  incapacitated 
tor  the  worship  »of  Jehovah.  And  the 
prophet,  as  he  wandered  through  the 
city,  and  found  that  the  sacred  edifice 
was  not  yet  rebuilt,  might  have  felt  as 
though  God  must  have  departed  from 
the  land,  seeing  there  was  no  place 
where  the  Shekinah  might  rest,  no 
solemn  recesses  whence  the  voice  or  the 
glory  of  the  Eternal  might  issue  mys- 
teiiously  forth.  But  practically  and 
speedily,  if  not  on  the  instant,  would  it 
also  be  to  suspend  religion  amongst  our- 
selves, were  the  land  to  become  sud- 
denly a  land  without  churches.  There  I 
VOL.  II.  41 


will  be  no  temples  in  heaven,  none,  at 
least,  we  arc  told  by  St.  John,  but.  tlio 
Lord  God  Almighty  Himself,  and  the 
Lamb,  because  in  heaven  we  shall  not 
need  any  medium  pf  "Communication : 
we  shall  not.  be  taught  through  inter- 
mediate agency  ;  but,  privileged  lo  draw 
at  once  from  the  fountain,  shall  rerjuire 
not  the  channels  which  conveyed  to  us 
waters  during  the  pilgrimage  of  life. 
But  the  very  reason  for  the  absence  of 
churches  from  the  heavenly  city  argues 
their  necessity  under  the  present  dis- 
pensation :  here  we  have  no  direct 
vision  ;  we  are  placed  without  the  vail, 
and  cannot  gaze  on  the  uncreated  ;  and 
we  must  therefore  submit  to  an  appoint- 
ment which  orders  that  we  be  instruct- 
ed through  certain  means,  and  derive 
grace  through  certain  channels.  Take 
away,  therefore,  our  churches,  and  you 
cut  off  our  supplies.  The  very  righteous 
will  languish;  and  the  unrighteous,  no 
longer  plied  through  the  instrumentality 
of  a  standing  ministry,  will  more  and 
more  throw  off"  restraint,  till  the  land 
becomes  covered  with  wickedness,  and 
has  lost  all  that  salt  which  now  stays  the 
progress  of  moral  decomposition. 

And  in  proportion  as  we  allow  any 
city,  or  any  portion  of  our  population, 
to  be  destitute  of  the  public  means  ot 
grace,  we  fasten  on  that  city,  or  popu- 
lation, something  of  the  same  religious 
incapacity  as  was  fastened  on  Jerusa- 
lem, whilst  its  temple  lay  in  ruins. 
What  moved  the  prophet,  what  excited 
his  anger  and  grief,  as  he  saw  houses 
rising,  and  the  temple  not  rebuilt  ? 
The  consciousness  that  the  inhabitants 
of  those  houses  were  not  possessed  of  a 
mode  of  access  to  God,  and  that  the 
want  of  a  temple  must  debar  them  from 
serving  Him  acceptably,  and  growing 
acquainted  with  his  will.  Therefore 
did  he  weep  :  he  cared  not  that  the  city 
wanted  the  gorgeous  pile,  which  might 
have  completed  its  architectural  beauty; 
but  he  cared  that  the  citizens  wauled 
the  ordained  instrumentality,  through 
which  they  might  worship  and  know 
the  God  of  their  fathers.  And  thus 
would  it  be  with  the  Christian  minister, 
who  might  look  on  a  growing  town, 
none  of  whose  structures  were  conse- 
crated to  Christ,  or  on  a  spreading 
valley,  rich  in  scattered  villages,  but 
those  villages  all  wanting  a  church. 
He  would  not  lament,  because  the  town 


\22 


I'UCKCK   IiCILOiXS. 


wanted  its  best  diadem,  the  diadem  of 
steeple  and  tower,  or  because  the  valley 
was  without  the  richest  of  ornaments, 
the  spire  which  points  man  to  the  sky, 
and  seems  to  bid  him  to  a  heavenward 
flight ;  but  he  would  lament,  and  bitterly 
lament,  that  the  dwellers  in  that  town, 
or  that  valley,  must  be  destitute  of  the 
chief  means  of  religious  instruction  ; 
that  practically  no  Sabbaths  could  break 
on  them  with  their  soothing  and  sancti- 
fying influence,  and  that,  wanting  the 
instituted  provision,  through  which 
righteousness  may  be  upheld,  and  wick- 
edness overcome,  they  must  soon  grow 
virtually  into  heathens,  whatever  had 
been  the  strength  of  their  Christianity 
at  first.  And  he  might  justly  walk 
through  that  town,  or  make  the  round 
of  that  valley,  upbraiding  the  inhabitants 
as  men  who  were  doing  their  best  to 
weave  an  impenetrable  moral  darkness 
round  themselves  and  their  children. 
I  see  him  stirred  with  a  holy  indignation 
as  he  looks  upon  mansions  and  shops 
and  warehouses  and  farms,  but  searches 
in  vain  for  the  house  of  his  God.  He 
goes  into  no  lengthened  statement  of 
the  enormity  of  those  who  have  thus 
built  for  the  body,  and  forgotten  the 
soul.  Enough  that  he  can  point  to  one 
kind  of  structure,  but  see  no  traces  of 
another.  And  he  has  said  sufficient  to 
cover  all  whom  he  meets  with  confusion, 
because  sufficient  to  prove  them  wilfully 
negligent  of  their  highest,  their  ever- 
lasting interests,  when  he  has  cast  his 
expostulation  into  the  form  of  our  text, 
"  Is  it  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell  in  cieled 
houses,  and  the  house  of  the  Lord  to 
lie  utterly  waste  ]  " 

Now  the  principle  which  we  may  be 
said  to  have  thus  extracted  from  our 
text,  is  very  simple  and  practical.  The 
Jews  are  not  blamed  for  having  built 
their  own  houses,  but  for  not  having,  at 
the  same  time,  built  the  house  of  God. 
The  thing  implied  is,  that  they  ought 
either  to  have  begun  with  the  temple, 
dwelling  in  tents  until  that  had  been 
finished^  or  that,  at  least,  the  temple 
should  have  risen  conjointly  with  the 
other  parts  of  the  city.  And  the  prin- 
ciple derivable  from  this  is.  that,  where- 
soever there  is  the  gathering  together 
of  human  beings  as  a  community,  there 
ought  to  be  in  the  midst  of  them  a 
house  devoted  to  God.  We  speak  of 
this  principle  as  fairly  derivable,  because 


we  have  already  taken  pains  to  show 
you  that  the  difference  between  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  dispensations,  is 
not  a  difference  which  makes  the  temple 
less  important  under  the  Gospel  than 
it  was  under  the  law.  We  may  make 
a  Jerusalem  of  every  town  and  every 
village,  seeing  that  in  every  town  and 
every  village  we  may  equally  have  the 
temple  ;  but  a  town,  or  a  village,  which 
has  not  a  church,  is  virtually  what  Je- 
rusalem was,  with  its  cieled  houses,  but 
the  house  of  God  lying  waste. 

So  that  there  is  contained  in  our  text 
the  great  truth  which  the  advocates  of 
church  extension  are  continually  labor- 
ing to  impress  upon  the  public  mind  ; 
namely,  that  a  church  ought  to  be 
planted  on  every  spot  where  there  is 
peopled  neighborhood  enough  to  fur- 
nish it  with  occupants  ;  and  that  it  is  a 
grievous  sin,  a  sin  which  must  entail 
both  present  and  future  retribution, 
when  a  population  is  suffered  to  spread, 
with  no  commensurate  spreading  of  the 
means  of  Christian  instruction,  to  build 
themselves  houses,  yet  to  have  no  build- 
ing for  the  worship  of  God,  the  hearing 
of  the  Gospel,  and  the  administration 
of  the  Sacraments.  But  whilst  the  text 
may  be  thus  pointedly  and  forcibly 
applied  to  ourselves,  because  asserting 
that  a  certain  proportion,  if  we  may 
use  the  expression,  should  be  maintained 
between  church  building  and  hue 
building,  we  have  not  yet  gone  the 
whole  length  of  the  remonstrance  ;  there 
is  a  further  charge  against  the  Jews, 
beyond  that  of  merely  making  habita- 
tions for  themselves,  to  the  neglect,  of 
that  of  God;  and  we  must  see  whether 
this  further  charge  might  not  be  made 
good  against  ourselves 

It  is  contained  in  the  expression, 
"  cieled  houses/'  on  which  we  have 
already  remarked  as  indicating  that  the 
Jews  had  reared  costly  and  luxurious 
dwellings,  though,  all  the  while,  they 
were  pleading  that  they  were  not  in  a 
condition  to  undertake  the  rebuilding 
of  the  temple.  The  thing  which  strikes 
the  prophet,  and  on  which,  under  the 
direction  of  God,  he  proceeds  indig- 
nantly to  comment,  is,  that  whilst  the 
temple  lay  in  ruins,  there  were  sumptu 
ous  structures  to  be  seen  in  Jerusalem, 
structures  which  denoted  the  opulence 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  therefore  proved 
I  that   want    of    will    alone    caused    the 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


323 


Lord's  house  to  be  waste.  If  the  .Tows 
bad  been  living  iii  temporary  buildings, 
hastily  constructed  for  the  present  emer- 
gency, it  might  at  least  have  been  a 
plausible  statement,  that  they  were  yet 
too  poor  to  raise  up  the  sanctuary  ;  but 
when  their  houses  were  "  cieled  houses," 
spacious  and  ornamented  mansions,  it 
was  impossible  to  doubt  that  they  had 
no  heart  for  the  building  the  temple, 
but  were  resolved  to  lavish  on  them- 
selves the  wealth  which  they  were 
bound  to  have  consecrated  to  God. 
And  thus  you  have  an  argument,  so  to 
Bpeafc,  in  our  text,  against  any  country, 
where  the  sumptuousness  ot'i:s  secular 
buildings  forms  a  contrast  with  the 
meanness  of  its  religious.  The  argu- 
ment hitherto  has  been,  that  a  country 
is  condemned  if  the  number  of  its 
churches  bear  no  just  proportion  to  the 
number  of  its  houses;  but  now  it  is  the 
character  or  style  of  the  respective 
buildings  which  is  appealed  to  in  evi- 
dence ;  and  the  comparison  lies  between 
magnificent  dwellings,  and  mean  tem- 
ples. 

It  cannot  tell  well  for  a  land,  if  its  j 
opulence  be  more  shown  in  other  struc-  ! 
tares  than  in  those  which  are  devoted  I 
to  the  service  of  God.  I  know  that 
the  Almighty  dwelleth  not  in  temples  ! 
made  with  hands,  and  that  it  is  not  the  j 
gorgeousness  of  architecture  which  will 
attract  his  presence,  or  fix  his  residence. 
I  am  well  assured  that  He  will  come 
down  as  benignantly,  and  abide  as 
graciously,  when  his  servants  have  as- 
sembled in  the  rude  village  church,  as 
when  they  occupy  the  splendid  cathe- 
dral, with  its  storied  aisles,  and  its 
fretted  roof.  But  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  question  as  to  the  propriety 
of  our  throwing  splendor  round  our 
religious  edifices,  whensoever  it  is  in 
our  power  to  do  so  :  the  mean  building 
may  have  the  Shekinah  within  it,  as 
well  as  the  magnificent ;  but  is  this  any 
reason  why  we  should  rear  only  the 
mean,  if  we  have  it  in  our  power  to 
rear  the  magnificent  1  I  think  not. 
God  was  content  to  have  a  tabernacle 
whilst  his  people  were  in  the  wilderness, 
or  still  harassed  by  enemies  ;  but  when 
He  had  given  them  abundance  and 
peace,  He  required  a  temple,  a  temple 
of  which  David,  when  meditating  the 
structure,  could  say,  "  The  house  that 
is  to  be   budded  for  the  Lord   must  be 


exceeding  magnifical."  And  when  this 
house  rose,  it  was  the  wonder  of  the 
earth;  the  gold  and  the  Bilver  and  the 
precious  stones,  were  lavished  on  it-; 
walls;    and  the    temple    soared    into  the 

sky,  a  glorious  nviss,  refulgent  as  though 

it  had  descended  from  above,  rathe: 
than  been  raised  by  mortal  hands.  We 
forget  not  again  the  change  of  dispensa- 
tion, when  wederivefrom  the  splendoi 

of  the  Jewish  sanctuary  an  argument 
for  the  duty  of  beautifying  the  house  of 
ttit!  Lord.  But  we  do  think,  that  when, 
with  every  token  of  approval,  the  Al- 
mighty took  possession  of  a  structure 
on  which  architecture  had  exhausted 
all  its  power,  and  wealth  poured  forth 
its  treasures,  He  did  give  evidence  that 
churches,  inasmuch  as  they  are  build- 
ings reared  to  his  honor,  ought  to 
exhibit  the  opulence  of  the  builders, 
and  thus  to  be  monuments  of  the  readi- 
ness of  piety  to  devote  to  the  Lord  the 
riches  derived  from  his  bounty. 

We  cannot  take  it  as  any  wholesome 
symptom  which  is  now  to  be  observed 
in  this  country,  that,  whilst  other  struc- 
tures are  advancing  in  magnificence, 
churches  are  of  a  less  costly  style.  If 
we  compare  ourselves  with  our  ances- 
tors, it  may  be  said  that  we  build  more 
spacious  and  luxurious  houses  :  if  we 
want  new  exchanges,  they  shall  be  such 
as  quite  to  throw  the  old  into  the  shade; 
new  houses  of  Parliament,  they  shall 
won  lerfully  outdo  what  the  fire  has 
destioyed  ;  yea,  even  our  hospitals  and 
infirmaries,  they  shall  be  almost  as 
palaces  compared  with  those  of  olden 
days ;  but  if  we  want  new  churches, 
they  shall  be  as  simple  and  unadorned 
as  possible,  contrasting  strangely  with 
the  vaulted,  and  arched,  and  richly- 
sculptured  piles  which  a  former  age 
delighted  to  consecrate  to  God.  Better, 
indeed,  struggling  as  we  are  to  overtake 
a  redundant  population,  to  have  the  two 
plain  churches,  than  the  one  costly 
edifice:  but  there  is  wealth  enough  in 
the  land,  wealth  displayed  in  the  "  cieled 
houses"  of  every  other  kind,  to  admit 
of  our  churches  being  costly  as  well  as 
numerous  ;  and  the  question  is,  whether 
it  will  not  at  last  tell  against  us  as  a 
people,  that,  whilst  we  were  thus  en- 
abled to  go  beyond  our  ancestors  in 
the  magnificence  of  all  other  buildings, 
whether  public  or  private,  we  adopted 
a  more  niggardly  style  in  regard  -*'->ur 


324 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


churches,  as  though  it  were  unimport- 
ant, in  respect  either  of  God  or  oar- 
selves,  what  kind  of  structure  were  set 
apart  for  the  offices  of  religion. 

It  is  not  unimportant — not  unimport- 
ant in  respect  of  God  ;  for  if  the  church 
is  his  house,  it  ought,  like  the  palace  of 
a  king,  to  bear  as  great  proportion  as 
we  have  power  to  effect  to  the  majesty 
of  the  occupant.  Not  unimportant  in 
respect  of  ourselves  :  who  has  not  been 
conscious  of  the  power  of  a  cathedral — 
the  power  to  excite  lofty  emotions  and 
soaring  thoughts — a  power,  as  though 
arch  and  pillar  were  indeed  haunted  by 
Deity,  so  solemnizing  and  spirit-stirring 
are  they,  as  they  surround  and  canopy 
the  worshippers,  like  the  stately  trunks 
and  the  clustering  boughs  of  a  forest, 
from  whose  depths  come  the  utterances 
of  God ']  It  is  vain  to  endeavor  to 
make  ourselves  out  independent  on 
associations  :  we  must  be  content  to  be 
material  as  well  as  spiritual,  and  not 
disdain  the  aids  which  a  place  of  wor- 
ship may  give  to  the  piety  of  the 
worshippers. 

But,  at  the  least,  it  cannot  tell  well  for 
the  religious  feeling  of  a  country,  if 
there  be  parsimony  in  its  churches, 
whilst  there  is  profusion  every  where 
else.  The  churches — not  the  streets, 
not  the  squares,  not  the  warehouses,  not 
the  docks,  not  the  palaces — the  churches 
ought  to  be  the  chief  evidences,  as  well 
by  their  stateliness  as  their  number,  of 
the  glowing  power  and  wealth  of  a 
Christian  kingdom.  We  have  nothing 
to  say  against  the  multiplication  of  spa- 
cious mansions,  of  lofty  edifices  in  which 
commerce  may  hold  her  court,  literature 
gather  her  votaries,  or  legislators  debate. 
But  woe  must  be  unto  a  country,  if, 
whilst  all  this  goes  forward,  the  house 
of  the  Lord  be  not  enlarged,  or  enlarg- 
ed only  at  the  least  possible  expense, 
so  that  its  courts  shall  want  the  splendor 
which  every  other  structure  exhibits. 
This  is  precisely  the  state  of  things  so 
indignantly  denounced  in  our  text.  It 
was  this  that  called  forth  the  expostula- 
tion of  the  prophet.  And  is  it  not  to  be 
seen  amongst  ourselves]  Notwith- 
standing the  vast  efforts  of  the  few  last 
years,  the  amount  of  church  accommo- 
dation, especially  in  the  metropolitan 
and  manufacturing  districts,  is  very 
greatly  in  arrears  of  the  amount  of 
population  ;  whilst  the  structures  rear- 


ed for  public  worship,  reared  under  a 
necessity  for  rigid  economy,  are  cer- 
tainly, to  say  the  least,  no  monument 
that  the  national  piety  is  eager  to  con 
secrate  unto  God  the  national  wealth. 

If  you  would  contrast  us  with  our  an- 
cestors, whether  as  to  the  number  or 
character  of  our  religious  edifices,  only 
compare  what  is  called  the  city  with 
more  modern  parts  of  our  overgrown 
metropolis.  The  city  is  literally  crowd- 
ed with  churches  ;  their  spires  are  a  sort 
of  forest;  and  the  most  of  these  eccle- 
siastical structures  are  of  rare  beauty 
and  costly  material  ;  so  that  in  many  a 
narrow  lane  or  obscure  court  may  you 
find  a  solid  and  richly  ornamented 
building,  contrasting  strangely  with 
those  by  which  it  is  surrounded  ;  but 
the  contrast  only  showing  that  our  fore- 
fathers felt  it  both  a  duty  and  a  privilege 
to  devote  the  best  to  God,  and  to  keep 
the  inferior  for  themselves.  But  pur- 
sue your  way  to  the  more  modern  parts 
of  the  metropolis,  and  you  have  line 
upon  line  of  stately  mansions  :  a  magi- 
cian would  seem  to  have  been  there, 
conjuring  up  a  multitude  of  palaces,  that 
all  the  wealth  of  the  world  might  be 
magnificently  housed, — but  where  and 
what,  for  the  most  part,  are  the  churches  1 
Alas,  they  do  not  crowd  upon  you  as  in 
the  streets  where  the  old  citizens  dwelt ! 
You  may  wander  comparatively  long 
distances  without  meeting  a  church ; 
and  when  one  rises  amid  some  gorgeous 
assemblage  of  the  homes  of  nobles,  or 
the  halls  of  science,  in  place  of  excelling 
the  city  church  in  any  thing  of  the  pro- 
portion that  the  modern  mansion  excels 
the  ancient,  it  is  commonly  below,  in  all 
that  can  mark  veneration  of  Deity,  the 
deserted  edifice  where  past  generations 
worshipped  and  rest.  And  we  want, 
therefore,  to  know,  whether  if  a  prophet 
were  now  to  arise  in  the  midst  of  us,  he 
might  not  fairly  address  to  us  the  very 
expostulation  contained  in  our  text.  I 
see  him  walking  our  spacious  streets; 
he  cannot  take  a  step  without  fresh 
evidence  that  we  have  wondrously  ad- 
vanced in  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries 
of  life  ;  but  he  looks  for  proof  that,  along 
with  this  advance,  there  has  been  a 
growing  manifestation  of  the  national 
piety,  a  manifestation  in  that  the  num- 
ber and  sumptuousness  of  our  churches 
at  least  keep  pace  with  the  number  and 
sumptuousness   of  our    dwellings :    he 


CHURCH  BUILDING. 


325 


looks  in  vain  ;  and  then,  will)  a  voice  of 
indignation,  a  voice  which  should  strike 
tenor  into  all  who  remember  that  unto 
whom  much  is  given,  from  them  shall 
much  be  required,  he  exclaims  to  the 
passers  by,  "  Ts  it  time  for  you,  O  ye,  to 
live  in  cieled  houses,  and  this  house  lie 
waste  1 " 

We  have  thus  endeavored  to  show 
you  that  our  text,  when  taken  under 
different  points  of  view,  is  equally  ap- 
plicable to  ourselves — applicable,  first, 
as  asserting  a  necessity  that  churches 
must  be  provided  if  religion  is  to  be  up- 
held"; and,  secondly,  as  making  the  dis- 
play of  opulence  in  other  structures 
bear  witness  against  the  paucity  and 
meanness  of  ecclesiastical.  The  Incor- 
porated Society  for  promoting  the  en- 
largement, building,  and  repairing  of 
Churches  and  Chapels,  now  appeals  to 
you,  under  the  sanction  of  her  Majesty's 
letter,  for  assistance  in  rolling  off  the  re- 
proach which  lies  on  us  as  a  people,  in 
so  fur,  at  least,  as  that  reproach  results 
from  the  insufficiency  of  our  church  ac- 
commodation. The  Society  has  done 
much,  though  but  little,  alas,  in  com- 
parison of  the  wants  of  a  rapidly 
augmenting  population.  It  has  now 
been  twenty  years  in  operation  ;  and 
during  that  time  it  has  assisted  in  pro- 
viding additional  church  room  for  435,- 
000  persons,  of  which  number  the  free 
and  unappropriated  sittings  for  the  use 
of  the  poor  are  for  318,000.  Surely 
this  is  a  gratifying  statement,  that  within 
twenty  years  318,000  of  the  poor  of  the 
land  should  have  been  provided,  with- 
out cost,  with  the  means  of  Christian 
instruction, — 318,000  who,  apart  from 
such  provision,  would  have  had  scarcely 
any  opportunity  of  hearing  the  glorious 
Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ : — this  ought  to 
be  good  tidings  to  all  who  love*  the 
Redeemer,  and  honestly  desire  the  ad- 
vancement of  his  kingdom. 

For  when  every  abatement  is  made, 
whether  for  defective  attendance  or 
defective  ministration,  it  cannot  be 
questioned,  that,  through  this  multiplica- 
tion of  churches,  numbers, vast  numbers, 
have  been  brought  into  acquaintance 
with  truth,  and  into  the  diligent  use  of 
the  ordinances  of  grace,  who  would 
otherwise  have  remained  in  spiritual  ig- 
normce,  virtually  without  God  and  with- 
out hope  in  the  world.  Indeed,  if  it  once 
be  admitted  that  it  is  through  the  public 


means  of  grace  thai  God  ordinarily  acts 
in  the  conversion  and  edifying  of  men,  no 

Christian  can  be  content  so  long  as  there 
arc  men  in  the  land  who  have  not  those 
means  within  reach;  every  Christian 
must  rejoice  in  all  such  extension  of  the 
means  as  shall  leave  fewer  and  fewer 
beyond  the  pale  of  parochial  superin- 
tendence. Do  1  consider  that  the  mere 
planting  of  a  church  in  a  neglected 
neighborhood  will  regenerate  that  neigh- 
borhood !  Do  I  -assume  as  a  matter  of 
course,  that,  because  a  church  has  been 
built,  the  Gospel  will  be  simply  and 
faithfully  preached  I  Far  enough  from 
this:  I  know  that  the  church  will  not 
be  filled,  unless  entrusted  to  a  minister 
who  will  assiduously  devote  himself  to 
the  task  of  reclaiming  the  alienated 
people  ;  and  I  know  also  how  possible 
it  is  that  the  appointed  minister  maybe 
deficient  in  the  qualities  which  he  ought 
to  possess.  But  do  1,  on  such  accounts, 
regret  the  erection  of  the  chinch,  or  con- 
clude that  no  benefits  result  from  the 
addition  to  the  amount  of  church  ac- 
commodation 1  Far  enough  from  this  ; 
if  the  church  be  not  immediately  made 
as  useful  as  it  might,  it  is  there  for  suc- 
cessive generations  :  one  minister  will 
pass  away  and  another  arise  ;  and  I 
cannot  doubt,  that,  in  the  course  of  years, 
there  will  be  the  frequent  and  lull  pub- 
lication of  the  Gospel  of  Christ;  and 
that,  too,  in  a  place  where,  but  for  this 
edifice,  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation 
would  never  have  been  announced. 

Neither,  moreover,  can  we  believe 
in  the  existence  of  any  case  in  which 
there  is  actually  no  present  good.  We 
will  venture  to  say  that  the  church  is 
never  built  in  a  destitute  neighbor- 
hood, which  does  not  cause  some  to 
attend  public  worship  who  never  attend- 
ed it  before.  And  it  is  a  good — say 
what  you  will — that  even  a  few  should 
be  brought  to  a  better  observance  of 
the  Sabbath,  to  the  joining  in  the  evan- 
gelical prayers  of  our  Liturgy,  to  the 
hearing  the  Bible  publicly  read,  and  to 
the  receiving  the  blessed  sacraments  of 
our  faith.  Besides,  a  church  seldom,  if 
ever,  springs  up  without  being  speedily 
followed  by  schools;  so  that  the  young 
are  brought  under  culture,  and  thus 
seed  is  sown  which  may  yield,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  a  rich  moral  harvest. 
Iu  the  "'least  favorable  case,  therefore, 
we  can  rejoice  that  a  church  has  been 


526 


CHURCH   BUILDING. 


built,  and  regard  it  as  associated  with 
the  best  interests  of  the  neighborhood  ; 
whilst,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  there  is 
no  alloy  whatever  to  the  pleasure  with 
which  we  contemplate  a  new  place  of 
worship  :  we  know  it,  and  we  can  prove 
it,  a  sort  of  centre  of  civilization,  whence 
humanizing  and  elevating  influences  go 
out  through  a  mass  of  our  fellow-men, 
hitherto  perhaps  abandoned  to  igno- 
rance and  all  its  fearful  concomitants — 
a  focus  from  which  diverge  the  rays  of 
a  moral  illumination,  lighting  up  many 
a  dark  spot,  and  leading  many  a  wan- 
derer to  the  only  refuge  for  the  sinful 
and  the  lost. 

You  are  now  asked  to  contribute 
liberally  towards  this  great  work  of 
multiplying  churches.  Applications  for 
assistance  are  pouring  in  to  the  Incor- 
porated Society,  and  its  funds  are  liter- 
ally exhausted.  Manufacturing  districts 
are  crying  for  help  :  cities,  towns,  vil- 
lages, all  are  eager  to  participate  in  the 
ministrations  of  the  Established  Church ; 
though  large  masses  of  their  inhabitants 
are  now  unavoidably  excluded,  through 
the  want  or  the  narrowness  of  churches. 
Support,  then,  the  Establishment  by 
increasing  its  power  of  doing  good. 
Every  church  which  is  built  is  a  new 
tower  on  its  battlements.  1  know  not 
whether  the  Establishment  could  have 
withstood  recent  and  present  assaults, 
had  they  been  made  some  years  ago, 
before  there  was  any  effort  to  increase 
church  accommodation.  But  the  Estab- 
lishment has  been  so  strengthened  by 
the  extension  of  her  ministrations,  that, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  she  may  defy 
her  enemies.  She  has  been  strength- 
ened, not  by  obtaining  new  pledges 
from  a  sovereign,  or  fresh  patronage 
from  nobles,  but  by  giving  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  poor  a 
share  in  her  services.  She  has  thus 
rooted  herself  more  deeply  in  the  affec- 
tions of  the  people :    and  let  her  only 


continue  to  hold  the  same  course,  mak- 
ing her  ministrations  more  and  more 
commensurate  with  the  growing  de- 
mand, and  thus  increasingly  proving 
herself,  what  no  other  body  can  even 
pretend  to  be,  emphatically  the  poor 
man's  church,  and  we  can  be  confident 
that  no  weapon  formed  against  her  will 
prosper,  but  that  her  adversaries  will 
compass  their  own  shame  and  con- 
fusion. 

1  rejoice  that,  required  as  I  am  by 
duties  in  another  place  to  leave  yon  for 
the  ensuing  month.  I  should  have  had 
this  opportunity  of  making  an  appeal 
to  your  Christianity  and  your  church- 
mansbip.  I  go  to  fulfil  my  engagement 
as  select  preacher  before  the  university 
of  Cambridge  during  the  month  of  No- 
vember ;  and  I  shall  have  to  carry  with 
me  to  that  seat  of  learning,  with  which 
the  well-being  of  the  Established  Church 
is  indissolubly  bound,  fresh  witness  that 
those  amongst  whom  Cod  hath  called 
me  to  labor,  are  firmly  attached  to  that 
Church,  persuaded  of  its  worth,  and 
bent  on  its  support.  Ye  are  not,  ye 
will  not  be,  of  those  who  prefer  their 
own  luxury  and  aggrandizement  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  welfare  of  man. 
Ye  are  not,  ye  will  not  be,  of  those  who 
may  be  taunted  with  living  in  their 
cieled  houses,  while  the  house  of  the 
Almighty  lieth  waste.  Rather  will  ye 
resolve,  and  act  on  the  resolution,  that, 
so  far  as  in  you  lies,  the  houses  of  God 
shall  be  multiplied  in  the  land,  till  all, 
young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  shall 
have  ample  opportunity  of  owning  and 
praising  Him  as  Creator  and  Redeemer 
— yea,  of  magnifying  Him  for  his  count- 
less mercies  in  words  such  as  these 
which  I  now  ask  you  to  sing  : 

Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below; 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  heavenly  host, 
,    Praise  Father,  Sou,  and  Holy  Ghost. 


THF,   FINAL  TEST. 


327 


SERMON    IX 


THE  FINAL  TEST. 


Then  shall  the  Kin?  say  unto  them  on  his  rizht  hand.  Come,  ye  Messed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom,  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.  For  I  was  an  hundred,  and  ye  pave  ine  meat;  I  was  thirsty,  anil 
ye  gave  me  drink  ;  I  was  a  strainer,  and  ye  took  me  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  5  I  was  sick,  and  j  e  visited 
me  ;  1  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me." — Matt.  xxv.  2i — 36. 


During  the  last  week,  the  Church  has 
called  upon  us  to  commemorate  that 
great  event,  the  Ascension  of  Christ; 
and  her  second  lesson  for  this  morning's 
service,  though  the  coincidence  is  acci- 
dental, follows  with  singular  appropri- 
ateness after  such  a  commemoration. 
Having  seen  our  Lord  go  up  into  hea- 
ven, having  listened  to  angels  declaring 
that  He  shall  so  come  again  in  like 
manner,  what  portion  of  Scripture  could 
he  more  suited  to  our  next  assembling 
than  one  which  delineates  under  bold 
figures  how  the  Son  of  man  shall  de- 
scend in  his  glory,  and  represents  all 
nations  as  gathered  before  Him,  that 
every  man  may  be  judged  according  to 
his  works'?  And  if  the  lesson  might 
thus  seem  to  have  been  chosen  on  pur- 
pose for  the  Sunday,  you  will  allow 
that  it  is  also  peculiarly  adapted  to  the 
occasion  of  my  addressing  you.  Having 
to  plead  the  cause  of  the  sick  and  the 
destitute,  whither  can  I  better  turn  for 
motives  to  benevolence  than  to  that 
grand  sketich  of  the  last  assize,  whence 
we  learn  that  the  test  to  which  we  shall 
be  brought,  when  on  trial  for  eternity, 
is  that  of  our  bavins:  shown  love  to 
others  out  of  love  to  Christ  ]  On  every 
account,  therefore,  we  could  not  long 
hesitate  as  to  the  subject  of  our  present 
discourse.  The  text  seemed  chosen  for 
us;  and  we  have  only  to  endeavor  to 
follow  out  those  trains  of  thought  which 
it  seems  naturally  to  open. 

We  wish,  however,  in  order  to  guard 
against    any    misapprehension    of    our 

*  T'v(-.at.-h£(l  at  the  Clinrchof  St.  Martin-in-the- 
l'mds,  on  oehali"  of  the  Charing  Cross  Hospital. 


succeeding  statements,  to  premise  a 
few  remarks  on  the  general  doctrine 
which  our  Lord's  words  present,  and 
which  appears  to  be  that  of  our  portion 
hereafter  being  to  be  determined  by 
our  works  here.  We  observe  at  once 
that,  it  cannot  be  improper  to  speak  of 
reward  from  God  to  man,  seeing  that  it 
is  expressly  declared  in  Scripture  of 
certain  actions  that  they  shall  obtain, 
or  shall  not  lose,  their  reward.  The 
question,  therefore,  is,  as  to  the  sense 
in  which  reward  can  follow  human  ac- 
tions, and  yet  all  the  happiness  men 
gain  be,  as  the  Scriptures  represent  it, 
the  free  gift  of  God.  We  throw  away 
altogether  the  idea,  that  there  can  be 
,mv  thing  in  the  best  works  to  make 
God  man's  debtor,  or  that  man,  what- 
ever his  doings,  can  have  claim  on  the 
Divine  justice  as  meriting  good.  It  is 
confessedly  impossible,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  relation  between  the  crea- 
ture and  the  Creator,  that  God  can  be 
so  advantaged  by  the  actions  of  those 
He  has  made  as  to  owe  them  any  favor 
in  return  :  and,  therefore,  the  works  of 
those  most  eminent  for  righteousness, 
can  possess  no  merit,  according  to  the 
general  acceptation  of  the  term  ;  if  they 
obtain  reward  at  all,  it  cannot  be  re- 
ward to  which  their  own  worth  entitles 
them.  If  this  be  borne  in  mind,  there 
will  be  no  difficulty  in  explaining  how 
works  may  be  rewarded,  and  yet  all 
that  men  receive  be  purely  gratuitous. 
The  only  works  which  God  approves, 
or  which  are  good  works  in  the  Scrip- 
tural sense,  are  those  which  result  from 
God  Himself  working  in  us  by  the 
energies  of  his  Spirit.     But  if  God,  of 


323 


THE  FINAL  TEST, 


his  great  mercy,  be  pleased  to  reward 
these  works,  assuredly,  forasmuch  as 
He  is  Himself*  the  Author  of  these 
works,  the  reward  is  altogether  of  grace. 
What  (rod  rewards  is  his  own  work  in 
us,  and  certainly,  then,  in  rewarding, 
He  bestows  a  free  gift.  There  would 
be  no  obligation  upon  God  to  recom- 
pense human  actions,  not  even  those 
which  exhibit  most  zeal  for  his  glory, 
and  most,  love  to  his  name.  But  He  is 
pleased  to  otfer  certain  blessings,  on 
condition  of  our  performing  certain  ac- 
tions :  and  these  blessings,  thus  offered, 
are  precisely  what  rewards  would  be, 
if  merit  were  not  wholly  out  of  reach. 
If  therefore  the  actions  be  performed, 
then,  though  they  have  not  deserved  in 
the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  and  though 
they  have  not  been  wrought  by  our 
own  power,  still,  since  God  has  been 
pleased  to  affix  certain  blessings  to  the 
performance,  we  may  both  say  that 
these  actions  are  rewarded,  and  that 
what  they  obtain  is  purely  of  grace. 
It  is  of  grace,  so  long  as  what  is  obtained 
could  not  be  claimed  as  a  thing  of 
right:  and  nevertheless  it  may  be  fairly 
called  reward,  so  long  as  it  follows  as 
a  consequence  on  the  doing  certain 
actions. 

It  will  suffice  to  have  made  these 
few  observations  on  the  general  doctrine 
which  may  be  derived  from  our  text,— 
a  doctrine  which  is  not  incompatible 
with  the  fundamental  tenet  of  justifica- 
tion by  faith,  seeing  that  good  works 
spring  naturally  from  faith,  and  are 
alike  its  fruit  and  its  evidence;  and 
which  leaves  man  still  indebted  for 
every  thing  to  God,  seeing  that  from 
God  comes  the  grace  through  which 
alone  can  be  wrought  any  acceptable 
action. 

But  leaving  these  and  the  like  refer- 
ences to  the  general  doctrine  involved 
in  our  text,  we  would  now  address 
you,  in  the  first  place,  on  the  person  by 
whom  the  last  trial  is  to  be  conducted  ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  on  the  test,  or 
criterion,  by  which  its  sentences  are  to 
be  settled; — the  person,  the  one  Media- 
tor between  God  and  man ;  the  test, 
the  having  fed  the  hungry,  and  visited 
the  sick. 

Now  in  our  text  it  is  "  the  King," 
one  invested  with  regal  sway,  who  is 
represented  as  carrying  on  the  great 
business  of  the  assize  on  human  kind. 


But  in  a  preceding  verse,  this  King  is 
spoken  of  as  the  "  Son  of  man  ;"  so 
that  in  the  august  form,  before  whom 
myriads  upon  myriads  are  assembled, 
we  recognize  that  "  man  of  sorrows," 
who  "  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree."  And  we  wish  you  here 
to  consider  the  comhined  justice  and 
mercy  of  the  appointment,  that  He  who 
is  to  decide  our  portion  for  eternity,  is 
the  very  being  who  died  as  our  surety. 
We  suppose  the  end  of  all  things  to  be 
come,  the  dead  to  have  heard  the  voice 
of  the  archangel,  so  that  small  and 
great  are  hastening  to  judgment.  We 
suppose  that  sublime  and  fearful  vision, 
which  was  granted  to  the  evangelist, 
now  receiving  its  accomplishment.  "  I 
saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that 
sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and 
the  heaven  fled  away,  and  there  was 
found  no  place  for  them."  And  who 
is  it  that  sits  upon  this  throne?  Who 
is  it  by  whose  verdict  the  condition  of 
untold  myriads  is  to  be  eternally  fixed, 
and  whose  single  sentence  is  to  deter- 
mine whether  everlasting  happiness,  or 
everlasting  misery,  shall  be  awarded  to 
the  several  members  of  the  vast  human 
family  ? 

It  is  a  question  of  the  first  moment ; 
for  the  thorough  equity  of  the  trial  de- 
pends mainly  on  the  character  and 
capacity  of  the  being  who  presides. 
If  you  tell  me  that  an  angel,  the  highest 
and  the  holiest  occupies  the  judgment- 
seat,  you  do  not  satisfy  me  that  every 
verdict  will  be  rigidly  just.  I  cannot 
believe  of  any  finite  being,  that  he 
knows  so  accurately  every  circumstance 
in  the  conduct  of  every  individual  of 
our  race,  that  he  can  make  no  mistake 
in  settling  the  portions  of  the  millions 
upon  millions,  who  throng  to  him  for 
sentence.  The  wicked  man  may  have 
hopes  of  eluding  his  penetration,  and 
the  righteous  may  have  fears  as  to  the 
extent  of  his  powers  of  discrimination  ; 
and  therefore,  you  may  array  this  angel- 
judge  with  majestic  attributes  and  as- 
sign him  every  noble  property  m  the 
highest  perfection  consistent  wun  crea- 
tureship  ;  but  there  can  oe  no  renamtv, 
throughout  that  mighty  ass^mMape 
which  the  graves  have  given  ud  that 
no  crime  shall  escape  detection.  »nd 
nothing  done  for  God  b»^  civerlooxpd. 

What  then  I  shall  the  throne  ne  oc- 
cupied by  Deity  Himv^it  e    snail    men 


THE  FINAL  TEST. 


329 


appear  before  their  Maker,  and  receive 
their  doom  from  the  Omniscient  >  Be- 
yon,l  all  question,  such  an  arrangement 
is  not  liable  to  those  objections  which 
6eem  to  lie  against  the  appointment  of 
an  angel  as  our  judge  Nothing  can 
escape  the  Omniscient;  and  therefore 
it  is  impossihie  that  his  decisions  should 
be  other  than  most  rigidly  impartial. 
The  heings  who  are  crowding  up  from 
the  sepulchres,  if  told  that  He  who  creat- 
ed them-,  W'  oie  all-seeing  eye  has  watch- 
ed their  every  action,  so  that,  in  the  deep- 
est solitude,  they  have  been  under  his 
inspection,  the  very  thoughts  of  the 
heart  having  been  observed  and  regis- 
tered— if  told,  we  say,  that  this  Omni- 
present one,  from  whom  nothing  can  be 
hidden,  and  by  whom  nothing  can  be 
forgotten,  is  about  to  sit  in  scrutiny  on 
their  conduct,  and  determine,  accord- 
ingly, their  everlasting  state,  will  they 
not  be  fraught  with  a  persuasion  that 
every  thing  will  be  done  by  the  strictest 
rules  of  equity,  and  that  there  will  not 
be  a  solitary  particular  in  the  enormous 
sum  of  human  doings,  which  shall  be 
passed  by  without  note,  and  without 
recompense  1  Yes,  they  must  neces- 
sarily be  persuaded  of  all  this  ;  and  yet 
there  would  be  a  kind  of  shrinking  from 
the  tribunal,  as  though  it  were  not  that 
to  which  creatures  like  ourselves  should 
be  summoned.  We  confess  the  amaz- 
ing dignity  of  the  Judge.  We  own  it 
impossible  that  any  one  should  fail  to 
receive  at  his  hands  the  most  exact  re- 
tribution, that  a  single  threatening,  or  a 
single  promise,  should  not  be  made 
good,  that  hypocrisy  should  be  unde- 
tected, or  humility  unobserved.  But 
then,  it  is  the  very  dignity  of  the  Judge 
which  confounds  us.  There  is  so  un- 
measured a  separation  between  our- 
selves and  the  being  by  whom  we  shall 
be  tried,  that  we  cannot  go  with  any 
confidence  to  his  tribunal.  He  can 
have  no  sympathy  with  us.  Of  a  dif- 
ferent nature,  a  nature,  too,  which  has 
nothing  in  common  with  the  feebleness 
of  our  own,  how  is  it  possible  that  He 
should  at  all  enter  into  our  case,  make 
allowances  for  our  circumstances,  and 
decide  with  a  nice  reference  to  our 
capabilities  and  trials'?  O  then  for  a 
Judge  who  can  have  something  of  a 
fellow-feeling  with  the  parties  to  be 
judged.  We  shrink  away  from  abso- 
lute Deity.  We  know  not  how  the 
vol.  ir. 


leir  snr- 
tempta- 

w   can 


weak  and  the  offending  are  to  find  ac- 
cess to  one  who  has  nothing  in  onnnion 

with  them,  who  has  never  experienced 
any  of  their  cares,  who  has  had  none  of 
their  battles  to  fight,  none  of  tl 

row  s  to  endure,  pone  of  their 
tions  to  wrestle  with.  And  h 
such  a  Judge,  with  all  his  wisdom  and 
all  his  justice,  be  a  fir.  judge  of  fallen 
men  I 

But  do  we  then  ask  that  our  judge 
should  be  man  ?  Indeed,  who  but  man 
can  fully  sympathize  with  man  ]  And 
yet,  if  an  angel  he  not  qualified  to  sit  in 
judgment  on  this  world,  how  can  a  man 
he?  A  man  may  have  the  power  of 
sympathy  which  an  angel  has  not  ;  but 
he  is  far  inferior  to  the  angel  in  those 
other  properties  which  go  to  the  con- 
stitution of  a  judsje  ;  and  in  those  pro- 
perties we  were  forced  to  pronounce 
even  angels,  the  loftiest  and  most  richly 
endowed,  altogether  deficient.  So  that, 
if  we  would  determine  who  alone  seems 
fitted  to  bear  the  office  of  Judge  of  this 
creation,  we  appear  to  require  the  in- 
supposable  combination,  insupposable, 
we  mean,  so  long  as  you  shut  us  out 
from  the  Gospel,  of  the  omniscience  of 
Deity,  and  the  feelings  of  humanity. 
We  cannot  dispense  with  the  omnis- 
cience of  Deity.  We  see  clearly 
enough,  that  no  finite  intelligence  can 
be  adequate  to  that  acquaintance  with 
every  iota  of  human  conduct,  which  is 
essential  to  our  ue»*ig  certain  of  the 
thorough  justice  of  future  retribution. 
But  then  neither  can  we  dispense  with 
the  feelings  of  humanity.  At  least,  we 
can  have  no  confidence  in  approaching 
his  tribunal,  if  we  are  sure  that  a  differ- 
ence in  nature  incapacitates  him  for 
sympathy  with  those  whose  sentence  he 
is  about  to  pronounce,  and  precludes 
the  possibility  of  his  so  making  our  case 
his  own,  as  to  allow  of  his  deciding 
with  due  allowance  for  our  feebleness 
and  temptations. 

Here,  then,  revelation  comes  in,  and 
sets  before  us  a  Judge  in  whose 
person  is  that  amazing  combination 
which  we  have  just  pronounced  as  in- 
supposable as  indispensable.  That  man, 
by  whom  God  hath  ordained  that  He 
will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness, 
is  Himself  Divine,  the"  Word  that  was 
in  the  beginning  with  God,  and  which 
was  God."  He  shall  come  in  human 
form,  and  every  eye  shall  see  him,  "  bone 


330 


THE  FINAL  TEST. 


of  ouv  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh  ; " 
and  they  that  pierced  Him  shall  look 
upon  Him,  and  recognize,  through  all 
his  majesty,  "the  man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief."  Yet  He  who 
descends  is  equally  the  ever-living 
Creator;  the  angel  and  the  archangel, 
by  whom  He  is  surrouded,  adore  Him 
as  "  from  everlasting  and  to  everlasting," 
"the  beginning  and  the  end,"  the  in- 
finite, the  self-existent.  In  his  person, 
then,  is  that  marvellous  union  which  we 
seek  in  the  Judge  of  the  whole  human 
race.  He  is  God,  and  therefore  must 
He  know  every  particular  of  character, 
every  action,  every  motive,  every 
thought,  every  word  ;  so  that  there  can- 
not rest  suspicion  on  any  of  his  verdicts  : 
He  cannot  be  imposed  on  by  the  show 
of  piety,  and  He  cannot  overlook  it 
where  real.  But  then  He  is  also  man  ; 
He  has  Himself  been  a  sojourner  upon 
earth  :  He  has  borne  my  griefs,  and 
wept  my  tears,  and  experienced  my 
trials  ;  and  therefore  will  He  put  Him- 
self into  the  situation  of  those  who  are 
brought  to  his  bar ;  He  will  know 
exactly  what  they  have  had  to  contend 
with,  and  be  able  to  adjust  each  sen- 
tence to  the  opportunities  and  capabili- 
ties of  the  party  on  whom  it  is  passed. 
Are  we  not  therefore  assured  that  mer- 
cy and  justice  will  alike  have  full  scope 
in  the  transactions  of  the  Judge,  and 
that,  in  appointing  tbqt  the  Mediator 
who  died  as  out  o^usntute,  should  pre- 
side at  our  trial  for  eternity,  God  hath 
equally  provided  that  every  decision 
should  be  impartial,  and  yet  every  man 
be  dealt  with  as  brother  to  Him  who 
must  determine  his  fate]- 

It  is,  we  think,  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  the  arrangements  which  charac- 
terize the  Gospel,  that  the  offices  of 
Redeemer  and  Judge  meet  in  the  same 
person,  and  that  person  Divine.  We 
call  it  a  beautiful  arrangement,  as  secur- 
ing towards  us  tenderness  as  well  as 
equity,  the  sympathies  of  a  friend  as  well 
as  the  disinterestedness  of  a  most  right- 
ous  arbiter.  Had  the  Judge  been  only 
man,  the  imperfection  of  his  nature 
would  have  made  us  expect  much  of  error 
in  his  verdicts.  Had  He  been  only  God, 
the  distance  between  Him  and  ourselves 
would  have  made  us  fear  it  impossible, 
that,  in  determining  our  lot,  He  would 
take  into  the  account  our  feebleness  and 
trials.     The  hypocrite  might  have  hoped  | 


to  baffle  the  penetration  of  the  man  ; 
the  lowly  and  afflicted,  conscious  of 
frequent  transgressions,  of  broken  vows, 
of  inconsistencies  and  backslidings, 
might  have  been  appalled  by  the  per- 
fections of  the  Godhead.  It  would  have 
been  an  encouragement  to  wickedness, 
had  the  Judge  been"  mere  man,  and 
therefore  liable  to  be  deceived ;  it 
would  have  filled  humble  piety  with 
dread,  had  the  Judge  been  only  God, 
and  therefore  not  to  be  "touched  with  a 
feeling  of  our  infirmities." 

But  now  the  grave  shall  yield  up  its 
countless  population,  and  no  one, 
throughout  the  vast  assemblage  of 
creatures  awaiting  their  trial,  shall  have 
a  word  to  object  against  the  fitness  of 
the  being  who  occupies  the  judgment- 
seat.  The  bold  transgressor,  who  lived 
on  in  rebellion,  despite  every  remon- 
strance, and  who  died  the  impenitent, 
he  shall  know  that  awful  form  on  I  he 
throne  of  fire  and  cloud,  and  long  to 
screen  himself  beneath  the  mountain 
and  the  rock  that  he  might  escape  the 
trial  and  the  sentence — but  not  because 
he  can  impeach  the  judicial  qualities  of 
the  arbiter  before  whom  he  must  ap- 
pear; oh,  only  because  the  book  of  his 
own  conscience  has  been  opened,  and 
from  its  pages  is  poured  forth  a  torrent 
of  accusation,  and  he  knows  that  the 
being  about  to  judge  him,  is  the  very 
being  who  endured  agony  for  him.  and 
shed  blood  for  him  ;  and  because,  there- 
fore, he  also  knows  that  there  is  no 
plea  which  can  be  urged  against  his  ut- 
ter condemnation,  no  subterfuge  by 
which  he  may  escape  :  mercy  exhausted 
itself,  and  was  despised  ;  what  then 
shall  arrest  justice,  or  procure  acquittal 
for  the  guilty  ]  The  believer  in  Christ 
who  hearkened  to  the  suggestions  of 
God's  Spirit,  and  brake  away  from  the 
trammels  of  sin,  he  too  shall  know  the 
Son  of  man,  as  He  comes  down  in  the 
magnificent  sternness  of  celestial  author- 
ity. And  whatever  his  emotions,  as 
the  inconceivably  tremendous  scene  is 
spread  before  him  and  around  him,  he 
will  be  assured  and  comforted  as  he 
gazes  on  the  Judge,  and  beholds  in  Him 
the  Mediator  who  counted  nothing  loo 
precious  to  be  given  for  his  ransom. 
He  will  remember  that  he  has  entered 
into  covenant  with  that  majestic  person- 
age, before  whom  the  human  race  is 
being  marshalled.     And,  therefore,   as 


THE  FINAL  TEST. 


331 


the  wicked  shall  seek  to  hide  themselves 
from  the  Judge,  as  knowing  Him  so 
fitted  for  the  office  tliat  they  c  in  not  es- 
cape, so  the  righteous  shall  g.i  in  hope 
and  confidence  to  his  tribunal,  regarding 
Him  as  their  surety,  and  certified  of  his 
sympathy.  Thus  each  class,  the  one  by 
the  passionate  cry  to  the  rock  and  the 
mountain,  the  other  by  that  holy  assur- 
ance which  proves  that  it  takes  to  itself 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  The  Lord 
is  our  Judge,  the  Lord  is  our  Lawgiver, 
the  Lord  is  our  King,  he  will  save  us  ; " 
each  class,  we  say,  furnishes  evidence 
how  just  and  yet  how  merciful,  is  the 
appointment  of  the  Redeemer  of  all; 
and  tells  out,  in  accents  which  shall  be 
understood  and  felt  by  those  eager  spec- 
tators who  flock  from  every  quarter  of 
creation  to  behold  and  approve  the  deal- 
ings of  their  God,  that  it  must  indeed 
be  in  righteousness  that  the  world  shall 
be  judged,  seeing  that  it  is  none  other 
than  the  Mediator,  who,  as  King  upon 
the  throne,  shall  pronounce  the  words, 
"  Come,  ye  blessed,"  and  '•  Depart,  ye 
cursed." 

But  we  would  now  turn  your  atten- 
tion on  the  test  or  criterion  furnished 
by  our  text.  You  see  that  the  alone 
reason  given  why  one  set  of  men  should 
enter  the  kingdom  and  another  be  ex- 
cluded is,  that  the  former  have,  and  the 
latter  have  not,  relieved  the  distressed. 
The  character  of  the  final  portion  is 
made  dependent  on  nothing  but  the 
having  fed  the  hungry,  and  clothed  the 
naked,  and  visited  the  sick  :  those  who 
have  thus  ministered  to  Christ  in  his 
members  going  away  into  life  eternal, 
and  those  who  have  not  thus  ministered 
being,  on  that  account,  given  over  to 
everlasting  punishment.  And  it  be- 
comes a  great  question,  how  the  poor, 
who  have  nothing  to  bestow,  can  pass  a 
trial  whose  criterion  thus  seems  to  pre- 
suppose an  ability  to  bestow  ;  and  how 
that  large  bulk  of  a  community,  who 
appear  necessitated  to  continue  in  the 
class  of  receivers,  can,  by  any  the  most 
unremitting  strivings,  bring  themselves 
within  the  condition  laid  down  for  the 
obtaining  the  blessedness  of  immortality. 
The  having  relieved  the  necessitous 
seems  made  indispensable  to  the  escap- 
ing the  fire  and  reaching  to  glory  : 
whereas,  to  all  appearance,  nine  out  of 
ten  are  disqualified,  and  that,  too, 
through  no  fault  of  their  own,  for  lighten- 


ing the  pressure  of  other  men's  trials, 
and  thus,  if  tho  sentences  he  according 
to  the  criterion,  lor  securing  to  them- 
selves the  "Come  ye  blessed  "  at  the 
judgment.  If  the  man  who  labors  with 
Ids  hands  can  succeed  in  making  Buch 
an    overplus   by    hi8   labors,  that    he    has 

something  to  give  to  the  destitute,  it  is 
clearly  possible  for  him  to  satisfy  that 
test  which  is  furnished  by  •Christ's  sketch 

of  his  assize  on  the  nations.  Bui  if — 
and  this  case  is  of  constant  occurrence 
— though  he  toil  with  unwearied  in- 
dustry, he  can  never  gain  a  fraction 
more  than  bare  sufficiency,  and  thus 
never  have  the  power  of  assisting  poorer 
brethren,  it  may  be  hard  for  him  to  see 
how  he  can  stand  in  a  position  of  ac- 
ceptance, when  the  Judge  makes  in- 
quisition as  to  the  food  and  the  clothing 
which  have  been  dealt  out  to  the  needy. 
We  desire,  if  possible,  to  elucidate  this 
point.  We  are  wholly  against  the 
opinion,  that  the  power  of  being  charita- 
ble is  limited  to  the  richer  classes,  and 
that  none  but  those  who  have  at  least 
something  more  than  a  sufficiency  can 
administer  to  the  wants  of  the  sick  and 
the  necessitous.  We  contend  ihat  the 
making  such  a  limitation  would  be  tan- 
tamount to  ascribing  an  undue  privilege 
to  the  possession  of  wealth,  seeing  that 
it  would  represent  the  rich  man  as  ena- 
bled, by  his  riches,  to  prepare  himself 
for  the  inquires  of  the  last  judgment,  at 
an  absolute  and  scarce  measurable  ad- 
vantage over  the  poor  man,  whose 
labor  only  just  secures  him  a  livelihood. 
And  can  it  he  that  the  possessor  of 
money  is  thus  on  a  vantage  ground  as 
compared  with  its  non-possessor,  when 
both  are  regarded  as  candidates  for  im- 
mortality 1  If  it  be  true,  as  we  learn 
from  the  Bible,  that  "it  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive,"  are  we  to  con- 
clude that  by  the  disposition  of  external 
advantages,  God  has  shut  out  the  great 
body  of  Christians  from  all  ability  of 
reaching  the  superior  blessedness  of 
the  giver,  and  fastened  them  indissolu- 
bly  to  the  inferior  of  the  receiver  ?  On 
the  contrary,  we  shall  not  hesitate  to 
say,  that  the  poor  man  may  be  the  giver 
just  as  well  as  the  rich,  though  his  every 
farthing  be  required  for  the  keeping  oil 
starvation  from  his  household,  so  that 
the  produce  of  his  labor  is  never  such 
as  to  allow  of  his  giving  a  suffering 
neighbor  one  jot  of  assistance. 


332 


THE  B1NAL  TEST. 


We  take  the  case  of  the  peasant  or 
mechanic,  who  rises  early  and  late  takes 
rest,  and  who  by  most  strenuous  exer- 
tions, and  by  submitting  to  constant 
privation,  just  contrives  to  support  bis 
young  family  without  applying  to  the 
paiish,  or  appealing  to  private  bounty. 
It  is  quite  possible  tbat  hundreds,  who 
have  no  greater  difficulties  to  struggle 
with,  will  not  be  content  to  wear  them- 
selves down  by  tbe  same  toil,  and  un- 
dergo the  same  hardships,  and  will 
therefore  degrade  themselves  into  pau- 
pers, and  go  to  the  parish-board,  or 
solicit  aid  from  the  wealthy.  But  the 
high-minded  man  to  whom  we  have 
referred,  determines,  and  acts  out  the 
determination,  that  unless  sickness  in- 
capacitate him  for  labor,  or  the  means 
of  procuring  a  virtuous  sufficiency  be 
put  absolutely  beyond  reach,  he  will 
neither  burden  the  poor-rate  nor  take 
help  from  the  charitable.  Now  what 
we  ask  of  you  is,  does  this  man  give 
away  nothing  in  charity  1  Is  he  shut 
out  from  the  being  liberal  and  benevo- 
lent by  the  circumstance  that  the  sum 
total  of  the  proceeds  of  his  labor  is  but 
just  equal  to  the  sum  total  of  the  de- 
mands of  his  household  1  We  can  never 
admit  this.  The  peasant,  indeed,  must 
say,  "  Silver  and  gold  have  I  none  ;" 
and  therefore  of  silver  and  gold  can  be 
give  none.  But  if  he  give  not  gold  and 
silver,  he  gives  bone  and  sinew.  He 
pays  to  the  poor-rate  exactly  that 
amount  which,  bad  he  been  a  little  less 
industrious  and  noble  spirited,  he  might 
have  drawn  from  the  poor-rate.  He 
throws  into  the  funds  of  private  bene- 
volence precisely  that  sum  which,  had 
he  chosen  to  accept  the  bounty  of  the 
wealthy,  he  might  have  extracted  for 
himself,  and  obtained  for  his  own  family. 
The  rich  merchant  contributes  to  tbe 
support  of  our  destitute  population  by 
paying  so  much  out  of  his  superfluities 
to  a  poor-rate.  But  tbe  hard  laborer, 
who  struggles  unweariedly  that  he  may 
not  be  a  burden  on  that  rate,  is  also  a 
contributor  to  the  support  of  the  desti- 
tute, and  that  too  by  paying  the  tax 
with  the  sweat  of  his  brow  and  the 
stretch  of  his  muscle.  The  opulent 
noble  lightens  much  of  the  affliction  of 
his  neighborhood  by  carrying  or  sending 
relief  to  the  sick  and  the  starving.  But 
he  is  rivalled  in  this  benevolent  work 
by   the  pale    and    almost    worn    down 


artizan,  who  never  applies  to  him  for 
help,  and  who  therefore  leaves  him  at 
liberty  to  transmit  to  other  objects  of 
charity  that  amount  of  assistance  which 
his  own  tale  of  hardship  would  have 
won  for  himself. 

We  think  it  to  be  as  clear  as  though 
established  with  all  tbe^rigor  of  a  mathe- 
matical demonstration,  that  tbe  man 
who  will  not  receive  what  his  distresses 
and  hardships  might  have  entitled  him 
to  receive  from  the  funds,  whether  of 
public  or  private  benevolence,  is  a  giver 
to  those  funds  of  precisely  tbe  sum  of 
which,  bad  he  chosen,  be  might  have 
been  tbe  receiver.  Neither  are  we  cast- 
ing any  slur  upon  those  of  tbe  poor 
whose  necessities  compel  them  to  sub- 
sist, either  in  whole  or  in  part,  upon 
charity.  We  do  not  necessarily  exclude 
even  these  from  tbe  class  of  givers. 
One  man  may  use  extra  labor,  in  order- 
that  he  may  avoid  asking  any  help; 
and  then  he  is  a  giver  to  tbe  amount  of 
that  assistance  which  be  must  have 
solicited  bad  his  industry  been  less  in- 
tense. Another,  who  in  spite  of  every 
exertion  cannot  earn  enough,  may  take 
pains  to  do  with  tbe  least  possible  help; 
and  then  he  is  a  giver  to  the  amount  of 
that  assistance  which,  with  a  less  un- 
flinching economy,  his  wants  would  have 
demanded.  He  who  by  the  toil  of  limb 
keeps  himself  altogether  from  tbe  list 
of  paupers,  contributes  just  so  much  to 
the  relief  of  tbe  poor  as,  without,  that 
toil  of  limb,  must  have  been  bestowed 
Upon  himself.  And  in  like  manner,  he 
for  whose  wants  tbe  toil  of  limb  cannot 
bring  sufficiency,  but  who,  by  tbe  toil 
of  carefulness,  makes  shift  to  do  with 
the  smallest  quantity  of  help,  he  con- 
tributes just  so  much  to  the  relief  of  the 
poor  as,  without  this  toil  of  carefulness, 
must  have  been  abstracted  on  his  own 
account  from  the  revenues  of  charity. 
What  then  I  can  ye  think  that  when  at 
the  judgment  there  shall  go  forward  au 
investigation  of  the  deeds  of  benevo- 
lence by  which  Christians  have  proved 
the  sincerity  of  their  faith,  none  but  tin. 
better  classes  of  society,  whose  means 
have  outrun  their  own  wants,  will  be 
able  to  submit  themselves  to  the  ap- 
pointed criterion  '?  or  that,  whilst  nobles 
may  appeal  to  hospitals  founded  or 
sustained  by  their  ancestral  revenues, 
and  merchants  show  how  their  purses, 
heavy  with  the  gains  of  commerce,  were 


THE  FINAL  TF.ST. 


always  open  at  the  cry  of  the  needy, 
the  virtuous  peasant  who  has  wrestled 
like  a  giant  with  poverty,  and  scorned, 
whilst  there  was  sight  in  his  eye  and 
strength  in  his  limb,  to  touch  a  stiver  of 
the  funds  which  belonged  to  the  desti- 
tute, must  shrink  back  as  one  unable  to 
reply  otherwise  than  in  the  negative  to 
the  question,  "  Hast  thou  given  bread 
to  the  hungry,  and  covering  to  the 
naked  'I  "  He  has  given  :  he  has  been 
a  giver  in  not  having  been  a  receiver. 

So  that  we  show  you  that  the  lower 
ranks  of  society  are  no  more  excluded 
than  the  higher  from  the  alleged  bless- 
edness of  givers;  and  that  those  who 
seem  to  you  to  have  nothing  to  bestow, 
may  as  well  abide,  at  the  last,  a  scrutiny 
into  ministrations  to  the  necessitous,  as 
others  who  have  large  incomes  at  tin  it- 
disposal,  and  can  take  the  lead  in  all 
the  bustle  of  philanthropy.  Ay,  and 
we  reckon  it  a  beautiful  truth,  that, 
from  the  fields  and  workshops  of  a 
country  may  be  sent  to  the  platform 
of  judgment  the  most  active  and  self- 
denying  of  the  benevolent  ;  and  that, 
however,  in  this  world  the  praise  of 
liberality  is  awarded  only  to  those  who 
can  draw  out  their  purses  and  scatter 
their  gold,  our  laborers  and  artizans 
may  be  counted  hereafter  amongst  the 
largest  contributors  to  the  relief  of  the 
afflicted.  The  donations  which  they 
have  wrung  from  overtasked  limbs,  or 
which  they  may  be  said  to  have  coined 
out  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood,  may 
weigh  down  in  the  balances  of  the 
judgment  the  more  showy  gifts  which 
the  wealthy  dispense  from  their  super- 
fluities, without  trenching,  it  may  be, 
on  their  luxuries — yea,  and  thus  is  there 
nothing  to  prove  to  us  that  there  may 
not  be  poured  forth  from  the  very  hovels 
of  our  land,  numbers  who  shall  as  well 
abide  the  searching  inquiries  of  the 
Judge,  as  the  most  munificent  of  those 
who  have  dwelt  in  its  palaces,  and  be 
as  justly  included  within  the  summons, 
"  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father," 
though  none  are  to  be  thus  addressed 
but  such  as  have  fed  the  hungry,  and 
clothed  the  naked,  and  succoured  the 
sick. 

Now  there  is  much  in  the  fact  which 
we  thus  set  before  you,  the  fact  that 
God  has  not  granted  to  the  wealthy  the 
monopoly  of  benevolence,  which  should 
move  you  to    great  liberality  towards 


the  indigent,  lest  you  find  yourselves  at 
List  outdone  in  charity  by  the  very  poor 
whom  you  succor.  You  see  that  the 
man  who  endows  an  alms-house  oul  of 
a  well-stocked  purse,  has  a  formidable 
rival  in  alms-giving  in  the  mechanic 
who  struggles  nighl  and  .lay  to  keep 
out  of  that  alms-house.  li  is  quite  |>.>s- 
sible  that   he  who  reared   the   asylum, 

and  put  over  it  his  coat  of  arm-,  may 
he  far  lower. down  at  the  last  in  the  list 
of  the  charitable  than  he  who,  rather 
than  claim  the  succor  of  thai  asylum, 
wore  away  old  age  in  toil  and  privation. 

There  is  much  also  in  the  considera- 
tions which  have  been  advanced,  to 
urge  you  specially  to  support  insiitu- 
tions  which  afford  succor  to  the  indus- 
trious in  a  season  of  trouble.  We  feel 
that  in  striving  to  raise  the  character  of 
a  population,  and  to  restore  that  healthy 
tone  which  exists  wherever  charitable 
aid,  in  place  of  being  coveted  and 
sought,  is  but  resorted  to  in  some  sin- 
gular emergencies,  we  make  an  effort 
which,  if  successful,  would  lift  this 
population  into  a  higher  moral,  as  well 
as  a  higher  physical,  position.  If  I  can 
prevail  on  a  man,  by  working  an  ad- 
ditional hour,  though  he  already  work 
many,  or  by  undertaking  an  additional 
task,  though  he  have  already  much 
upon  his  hands,  just  to  prevent  the 
necessity  of  his  seeking  aid  from  the 
wealthy,  why,  I  do  that  man  a  vast 
spiritual  benefit:  I  detain  him  within 
the  class  of  givers,  when  he  may  be 
actually  on  the  point  of  passing  over  to 
that  of  receivers ;  and  thus  arrest  him 
in  his  intention  of  throwing  away  that 
power  of  ministering  to  the  necessities 
of  others  which  he  possesses  as  actually, 
if  not  as  abundantly,  as  though  he 
ranked  amongst  the  nobles  of  the  laud. 

And  we  estimate  therefore  the  worth 
of  charitable  institutions  by  their  ten- 
dency to  check  pauperism,  and  give 
encouragemeut  to  industry.  Hence  we 
always  plead  with  great  confidence  for 
an  Hospital,  an  Infirmary,  or  a  Dis- 
pensary, because  we  know  that  such 
establishments  cannot  multiply  the  ob- 
jects which  they  propose  to  relieve. 
An  asylum  for  want  may  produce  want ; 
but  the  like  cannot  be  said  of  an  asylum 
for  sickness.  And  whilst  there  is  no 
tendency  in  an  Hospital  to  the  encour- 
agement of  pauperism,  there  is  a  ten- 
dency the  very  strongest  to  the  eucour- 


334 


THE  FINAL  TEST. 


agement  of  industry.  The  Hospital 
affords  a  shelter  to  the  mechanic  or 
peasant  at  those  seasons  when  no  ex- 
ertions of  his  own  can  suffice  for  his 
wants;  and  then  sends  him  back  to  his 
labor  in  renovated  health,  and  with  his 
resolve  to  toil  cheerfully,  strengthened 
by  the  consciousness,  that  if  sickness 
overtake  him,  he  has  a  home  to  which 
to  turn.  Thus,  in  place  of  there  being 
any  likelihood  that  the  assistance  of  an 
Hospital  will  transfer  a  man  from  the 
class  of  givers  to  that  of  receivers, 
there  is  every  probability  that  they  will 
strengthen  the  independent  laborer  in 
his  resolve  to  provide  for  himself  whilst 
in  health,  because  they  remove  the 
pressure  of  that  anxiety  which  he  might 
naturally  feel  in  the  prospect  of  sick- 
ness. 

We  are  sure,  then,  that  the  claims  of 
an  Hospital  must  always  strongly  com- 
mend themselves  to  an  enlightened 
philanthropy.  We  are  sure  also  that 
amongst  the  numerous  institutions  of 
this  kind  which  do  honor  to  our  Me- 
tropolis, none  is  more  worthy  your 
support  than  the  Charing  Cross  Hos- 
pital, for  which  1  now  plead.  It  is 
indeed  of  but  recent  erection  :  but,  on 
this  very  acconnt,  it  more  needs  your 
help;  for  it  has  not  yet  had  time  to 
accumulate  a  single  farthing  of  capital, 
so  that  it  is  still  altogether  dependent 
on  voluntary  contributions.  And  that 
an  Hospital  was  not  instituted  in  this 
neighborhood  before  it  was  needed,  is 
proved  by  the  simple  fact,  that,  during 
the  last  year,  nearly  6000  sick  were 
admitted  on  its  books,  of  which  1200 
have  been  actually  received  within  its 
walls.  But  until  the  Hospital  shall  be 
able  to  fund  property,  its  operations 
will  be  necessarily  limited  and  precari- 
ous; and  we  do  not  know  a  nobler 
thing  which  any  of  our  great  capitalists 
could  do,  than  the  providing  so  ad- 
mirable an  institution  with  a  fitting 
endowment.  I  never  before  had  to 
plead  for  an  Hospital  so  circumstanced. 
The  other  Hospitals  whose  cause  I 
have  advocated,  had  their  estates  or 
their  consols  to  fall  back  upon,  if  sub- 
scriptions diminished;  and  I  could  not 
feel  that  there  would  be  necessarily  an 
immediate  rejection  of  applicants  for 
admission,  if  my  appeal  were  not  liber- 
ally answered.  But  the  case  is  now 
different.     I    am    now   actually   asking 


for  the  means  of  receiving  that  fathei 
of  a  family  whom  accident  has  disabled, 
or  that  mother,  who,  with  wasted  cheek, 
entreats  succor  for  herself  or  her  child. 
It  is  literally  with  you  to  determine 
whether  the  doors  of  the  Hospital  shall 
be  closed  on  that  emaciated  thing; 
and  you  have  only  tq  be  scant  in  your 
donations,  and  there  shall  soon  be  a 
widow,  to  whom  a  little  more  liberality 
might  have  preserved  the  husband  of 
her  youth,  and  an  orphan  who,  had 
you  shown  yourselves  more  benevolent, 
might  still  have  enjoyed  the  protection 
of  a  parent.  The  case  therefore  is 
peculiar.  I  could  almost  wish  that  I 
had  not  undertaken  the  advocacy:  I 
have  the  sick  and  the  dying  actually  in 
charge;  and  if  I  do  not  thoroughly  ad- 
duce the  motives  to  relieving  them — 
for  I  know  that  you  need  nothing  else 
to  the  being  stirred  to  give  largely — I 
shall  literally  have  to  accuse  myself  of 
depriving  numbers  of  medical  succor, 
and  consigning  them  to  unassuaged 
pain,  and  perhaps  even  to  an  untimely 
grave. 

No  marvel,  then,  if  I  dare  not  con- 
clude without  another  allusion  to  the 
dread  things  of  judgment.  The  sick 
and  the  dying  will  not  acquit  me  of 
unfaithfulness,  but  will  rather  haunt  me 
reproachfully,  if,  with  such  a  subject  of 
discourse,  1  do  not  again  bring  you 
before  the  great  white  throne,  and  im- 
plore of  you  now  to  act  as  you  will 
wish  to  have  acted,  when  the  trumpet 
shall  have  sounded,  and  the  sea  and 
the  desert  shall  give  up  their  dead. 
Not  that  you  are  to  purchase  Heaven 
by  deeds  of  benevolence — perish  the 
thought — there  may  he  founders  of 
Hospitals,  and  builders  of  Churches,  in 
that  outer  darkness,  where  there  shall 
be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  But 
though  no  man  can  be  saved  by  his 
works,  every  man  shall  be  judged  ac- 
cording to  his  works.  If  he  have  he- 
lieved  upon  Christ — and  this  is  the 
single  ordained  mode  of  salvation — the 
sincerity  of  his  faith  will  be  proved  by 
his  works;  and  therefore,  in  being  ap- 
pointed to  everlasting  life,  he  will  be 
judged  according  to  his  works.  If  he 
have  not  relied  on  the  merits  of  the 
Saviour,  the  want  of  faith  will  be  evi- 
denced by  the  deficiency  in  works; 
and  therefore  will  he  also,  in  being 
consigned    to    everlasting    misery,     be 


THE  LOST  SHEEP, 


335 


judged  according  to  his  works.  It  is 
then  quite  possible  that  u  man  may  be 
liberal  to  the  necessitous,  and  not  from 
the  Scriptural  motive,  but  from  osten- 
tation, or  at  best  natural  kindliness: 
and  assuredly  his  liberality  shall  not 
open  lor  him  that  gate  which  is  closed 
against  all  but  true  followers  of  Christ. 
But  if  a  man  be  not  liberal,  according 
to  his  ability,  to  the  necessitous,  it  is 
quite  certain  that  he  wants  what  alone 
will  gain  him  entrance  into  Heaven  ; 
and  we  may  pronounce  him  excluded 
because  he  closed  his  ear  against  the 
cry  of  the  poor. 

Thus,  with  no  compromise  of  sound 
Protestant  doctrine,  but  leaving  in  its 
integrity  the  great  truth  of  justification 
by  faith,  we  can  go  with  you  to  the 
tribunal  of  God,  and  declare  your  por- 
tion determined  by  the  mode  in  which 
you  responded  to  such  appeals  as  the 
present.  This  our  assembling  will  not 
terminate  when,  a  few  minutes  hence, 
this  congregation  shall  disperse.  Sab- 
baths die  not;  sermons  die  not.  They 
pass  away,  but  only  to  be  entered  in 
the  great  register  of  God,  and  to  revive 
on  the  strange  day  of  the  Easter  of  this 
creation.     The   voice   of  the    destitute 


and  suffering,  which  is  now  beard  only 
as  the  plaintive  moan,  and  the  faint  cry 
of  pain,  supplicating  buci-oi-,  shall  be 
heard  once  more  amid  all  the  magnifi- 
cent confusion  of  falling  stars  and  dis- 
located systems — heard  as  a  wild  call 
for  vengeance  on  the  penurious,  who 

were  not  to  be  moved  to  the  showing 
kindness  to  the  afflicted.  Yes,  ii  shad 
be  thus  heard,  and  the  vengeance  which 

it  invokes  must  descend  upon  many — 
but  not,  we  think,  upon  you.  The  sick 
may  be  comforted:  they  are  not  to  bo 
deserted  ;  they  are  not  appealing  to  the 
churlish  and  hardhearted.  We  have 
pleaded  their  cause  feebly;  we  have 
omitted  many  motives,  and  not  given 
to  others  all  their  strength  ;  but  ye  have 
hearkened  to  words  borne  to  you  from 
the  far  depths  of  the  future,  words 
syllabling  the  rule  by  which  the  last 
trial  shall  proceed — and  what  were 
these  words  I  Great  Judge  of  quick 
and  dead,  we  have  heard  Thee  calling 
to  those  who  have  fed  the  hungry  and 
visited  the  sick,  and  saying  to  them, 
"  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  in- 
herit the  kingdom  prepared  for  you 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 


SERMON   X 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


And  he  spake  this  parable  unto  them,  saying,  What  man  of  you  having  an  hundred  sheep,  if  ho  lose  on"  of  thera, 
iloth  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  sro  after  that  w  liieh  is  lost,  until  he  find  it?  And  ivlicg 
he  hath  found  it,  he  layeth  it  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing." — Luke  xv.  3 — 5. 


You  may  remember  that  another 
parable  is  added  to  that  which  we  have 
just  read,  and  of  precisely  the  same  im- 
port.   A  woman,  possessed  of  ten  pieces 


'Preached  at  St.  Wave's,  South wark,  on  the 
18th  of  June,  on  behalf  of  the  Merchant  Sea- 
men's Orphan  Asylum 


of  silver,  is  represented  as  losing  one 
piece,  and  as  searching  with  great  dili- 
gence till  she  find  it.  She  then  calls 
together  her  friends  and  her  neighbors, 
that  they  may  rejoice  with  her  at  the 
success  of  her  inquiries.  The  truth 
which  Christ  infers  from  each   parable 


336 


THE   LOST  SHEEP. 


or  rather  the  truth  which  He  illustrates 
by  each,  is  the  same — namely,  that  there 
is  greater  joy  in  Heaven  over  one  re- 
pentant sinner,  than  over  a  company  of 
the  righteous  who  need  no  repentance. 
In  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew,  where 
the  parable  on  which  we  purpose  to 
discourse  is  somewhat  differently  put, 
the  express  assertion  is,  that  if  the  man 
find  the  lost  sheep,  he  rejoiceth  more  of 
it  than  of  the  ninety  and  nine  which 
went  not  astray.  We  shall  take  the 
statements  of  the  two  Evangelists  pro- 
miscuously, according  as  they  may  best 
suit  our  purpose.  We  may  safely  as- 
sume that  these  parables  are  to  be  re- 
garded as  illustrative  of  God's  dealings 
with  our  race;  descriptive  in  some  re- 
spects of  that  plan  of  Redemption  which 
Christ  came  to  execute.  It  is  sufficient- 
ly evident  that  Christ  designed  to  point 
out  Himself  as  seeking  the  sheep  that 
had  (rone  astray,  or  the  piece  of  money 
which  was  lost.  And  therefore  we 
Cannot  doubt  that  He  also  designed  to 
fix  attention  on  the  whole  scheme  of 
human  rescue,  as  arranged  for  the 
gathering  back  a  solitary  tribe  into 
companionship  with  the  unfallen  ranks 
in  creation.  We  ask  your  serious  at- 
tention to  a  simple  review  of  the  parable 
of  which  we  have  read  you  a  part,  and 
of  the  truth  which  it  inculcates,  on  the 
supposition  that  the  design  of  its  delivery 
was  what  we  have  just  stated. 

Now  we  are  always  to  remember,  that 
out  of  condescension  to  the  weakness 
of  our  faculties,  and  not  because  of  the 
accuracy  of  the  delineation,  God  is  of- 
ten represented  to  us  in  Scripture  as 
acting  on  human  principles,  and  moved 
by  human  affections.  Thus  in  the  par- 
able before  us  He  is  exhibited  as  ac- 
tuated by  a  feeling,  which,  however 
natural  amongst  ourselves,  can  scarcely 
have  place  in  such  a  being  as  the  Divine. 
We  undoubtedly  attach  great  value  to 
any  thing  which  we  lose,  and  think  little 
in  comparison  of  what  we  still  retain. 
The  loss  appears  to  stamp  a  greater 
worth  than  the  possession,  and  if  we 
regain  what  had  slipped  from  our  grasp, 
we  are  disposed  to  regard  it  as  a  hun- 
dredfold more  precious  than  before. 
We  cannot  think  that  precisely  the  same 
feeling  has  place  in  the  Divine  nature. 
If  any  thing  which  He  loves  be  with- 
drawn from  God,  there  cannot  be  that 
uncertainty  as  to  its  recovery,  that  ig- 


norance where  it  may  be  found,  and 
that  consequent,  diligence  of  search, 
which  combine  to  the  producing  great 
delight  in  ourselves,  when  we  recover  a 
good  which  we  had  lost. 

But  when  we  have  cautioned  yon 
against,  the  supposing  in  Deity  emotions 
which,  by  their  nature,, can  belong  only 
to  humanity,  we  may  proceed  to  regard 
the  figurative  representation  as  the 
nearest  to  the  truth  which  the  case  will 
admit.  It  may  not  be  denied,  thar. 
whatever  be  God's  feelings  on  gathering 
home  those  who  have  wandered  from 
obedience,  they  cannot  be  identical 
with  those  of  the  man  who  finds  amongst 
the  mountains  the  one  sheep  which  had 
strayed.  But  nevertheless  there  may 
be  no  case  in  the  workings  of  human 
sympathy  which  furnishes  so  apt  an  il- 
lustration ;  and  though  God  cannot  be 
said  to  lose  and  recover,  in  the  sense 
which  such  expressions  bear  amongst 
men,  we  can  readily  believe  that  we 
come  nearest  to  what  is  felt  by  the 
Creator,  when  erring  creatures  are  re- 
claimed, by  ascribing  to  Him  the  sensa- 
tions produced  in  ourselves  on  regaining 
what  has  wandered  away.  These  con- 
siderations being  premised,  in  order  that 
you  may  be  guarded  against,  misappre- 
hensions, we  proceed  to  consider  our 
Maker  as  proprietor  of  the  hundred 
sheep,  and  man  as  the  solitary  one  who 
has  departed  from  the  fold. 

You  are  none  of  you,  it  may  be,  ig- 
norant how  the  seeming  insignificance 
of  this  planet,  and  of  ourselves  its  in- 
habitants, has  been  turned  into  an  argu- 
ment against  the  truth  of  our  Redemp- 
tion ;  so  that,  setting  in  contrast  the 
littleness  of  the  human  race,  and  the 
vastness  of  the  machinery  said  to  have 
been  used  for  its  rescue,  men  have  ask- 
ed whether  it  be  credible  that  the  Son 
of  God  humbled  Himself  and  died  for 
so  inconsiderable  a  section  of  his  un- 
limited empire'?  We  are  not  about  to 
expose,  by  any  labored  reasoning,  the 
fallacy  of  this  argument.  But  we  wish 
you  to  observe  how  it  sets  itself  against 
a  principle  which  God  has  undoubtedly 
implanted  in  the  very  highest,  of  his 
creatures,  and  of  which  therefore  we 
may  reasonably  believe,  that  it  has  a 
counterpart  in  his  own  nature.  And 
this  is  the  principle  of  a  possession  ap- 
j  pearing  more  precious  just  at  the  in- 
|  stant  of  its  loss  j  of  its  engaging  every  so- 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


337 


ficitude  for  its  recovery,  and  of  its  caus- 
ing, when  regained,  a  yet  deeper  glad- 
ness than  is  produced  by  those  which 
have  never  been  endangered.  It  may  be 
true,  that  the  Almighty  had  formed  many 
worlds,  and  peopled  each  with  intelligent 
beings,  and  that  this  earth  was  the  solitary 
wanderer  from  an  orbit  of  obedience. 
It  may  be  true,  that  within  the  fold  of 
the  heavenly  Shepherd  were  gathered 
rank  upon  rank  of  happy  and  righteous 
creatures,  and  that  there  was  but  one 
alien,  one  sheep  which  had  forsaken  the 
ever  fresh  pastures,  and  gone  away  Xo 
the  desert  or  the  mountain.  But  the 
fact  that  there  was  only  one  wanderer, 
only  one  apostate,  is  no  evidence  to  us 
that  God  might  be  expected  to  abandon 
that  one  to  wretchedness  and  ruin. 
That  the  ninety  and  nine  sheep  were  yet 
safe  in  the  fold,  carries  no  conviction 
to  our  minds,  that  the  Shepherd  would 
care  nothing  fur  the  single  one  which 
had  strayed.  We  have  the  principle  of 
our  text  to  set  against  such  theory. 
We  know  that  this  would  not  be  the 
case  with  ourselves.  We  are  assured 
that  this  would  not  be  the  case  with  the 
highest  angels.  And  we  feel  that  there 
is  every  reason  to  conclude,  that  a 
principle,  which  is  to  be  found  at  the 
very  summit  of  creatureship,  must  have 
a  principle  which  corresponds  to  it  in 
the  Divine  nature  itself 

We  can  therefore  quite  believe — at 
least,  who  shall  show  us  any  thing  in- 
credible in  the  supposition  ? — that  when 
the  lonely  planet  had  wandered  into  a 
region  of  storm  and  eclipse ;  the  Crea- 
tor was  not  satisfied  with  beholding  the 
worlds  upon  worlds  which  still  walked 
their  pathways  of  light,  and  with  listen- 
ing to  that  melodious  hymn,  which  flow- 
ed from  the  unbroken  harmony  of  their 
movements.  We  can  quite  believe  that 
it  was  not  enough  for  a  being  of  un- 
bounded beneficence,  that  there  was 
but  one  instance,  in  all  the  expanse  of 
his  dominions,  of  a  race  which  had  won 
misery  for  its  heritage  ;  and  that  every 
where,  save  iit  one  inconsiderable  spot, 
happiness  had  its  home  amongst  the 
works  of  his  hands.  We  can  believe 
that  the  heart  of  the  father  went  out  af- 
ter the  prodigal  child  ;  and  that  the 
thoughts  of  the  shepherd  were  with  that 
one  member  of  the  flock  which  was  far 
away  in  darkness  and  danger;  and 
that  the  affections  of  the  Creator  follow- 
vol.  II.  43 


ed  that  race  which  had  lefl  his  guardian- 
ship, and  dared  his  displeasure.  And 
though  it  were  indeed  an  overbold 
statement,  that  unless  informed  by 
Revelation,  we  could  have  supposed 
such  amazing  arrangements  as  have  ac- 
tually been  made  for  the  recovery  of  the 
sheep  that  was  lost,  we  may  yel  declare 
that  we  see  no  cause  for  surprise  in  the 
fact,  that  we  were  not  left  to  perish  ; 
that  we  see  only  the  workings  of  a 
principle  which  must  exist  in  Deity,  and 
which,  wheresoever  it  exists,  will  pro- 
duce great  endeavors.  We  will  not 
say  that  we  could  at  all  have  computed 
on  the  Good  Shepherd  giving  his  life 
for  the  sheep  ;  on  the  employment  of 
means  so  costly  and  stupendous  as  those 
of  the  Incarnation  and  Atonement,  for 
the  restoring  a  lost  world  to  its  original 
position.  But  when  the  scheme  is 
made  known  ;  and  when  especially, 
with  all  its  vastness,  we  cannot  prove  it 
more  than  commensurate  with  the  exi- 
gencies of  our  condition — oh,  we  can 
find  no  cause  for  doubt  or  disbelief,  in 
the  alleged  insignificance  of  man.  We 
are  not  to  be  persuaded  that  this  globe 
was  too  inconsiderable  a  spot,  in  com- 
parison with  the  vast  spreadings  of  im- 
mensity which  were  yet  occupied  by  the 
holy  and  happy,  to  have  engaged,  in  its 
alienation,  the  solicitudes  of  its  Maker. 
We  know  that  what  is  still  in  possession 
though  it  be  the  large  and  magnificent, 
appears  as  nothing  when  compared 
with  what  is  lost,  though  in  itself  the 
poor  and  unimportant.  Therefore  can 
we  feel  confident  of  the  truth  of  a  re- 
cord, which  declares  that  our  race  has 
been  the  object  of  a  mighty  interfer- 
ence; ay,  and  we  can  quite  think,  that, 
when  the  Shepherd  had  gone  among  the 
mountains,  and  had  succeeded,  though 
after  much  toil  and  agony,  in  reclaiming 
the  wanderer,  then  not  only  were  the 
heavenly  hosts  moved  to  greater  rapture 
than  when  surveying  the  flock  which 
had  never  left  the  fold,  but  the  great 
Proprietor  Himself,  experiencing  a  new 
delight  in  the  return  of  the  prodigal, 
might  be  likened  to  a  man,  who,  hav- 
ing recovered  the  one  sheep  he  had  lost, 
"rejoiceth  more  of  that  sheep  than  of 
the  ninety  and  nine  which  went  not 
astray." 

But  now  it  may  be  said,  if  there  be  a 
principle  in  Deity  leading  Him  to  re- 
joice more  of  the  one  sheep  He  has 


"38 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


recovered  than  of  the  ninety  and  nine 
which  never  wandered,  it  is  unaccount- 
able that  He  brought  not  back  the  fallen 
angels  to  his  fold.  It  is  always  to  be 
remembered  that  men  were  not  the 
leaders  in  rebellion  :  they  were  not  the 
first  sheep  that  went  astray  from  their 
shepherd.  And  if  indeed  there  be  a 
new  preciousness  attached  by  danger 
or  loss  to  any  thing  which  is  beloved, 
so  that  the  owner  is  more  gladdened  by 
its  recovery  than  by  all  his  undisturbed 
possessions,  how  shall  we  explain  the 
absence  of  endeavor  on  the  part  of  the 
universal  Parent  to  gather  back  those 
child' en  who  first  left  their  home  1 
Had  both  angels  and  men  been  left  be- 
neath the  curse  which  disobedience  had 
provoked,  or  had  both  been  objects  of 
Divine  interposition,  there  would  have 
been  such  uniformity  in  the  proceedings 
of  the  Creator  as,  on  either  supposition, 
would  have  seemed  in  accordance  with 
the  fixed  principles  of  his  nature.  But 
that  one  should  have  been  taken  and 
the  other  left, — we  cannot  deny  that 
this  is  apparently  inconsistent  with  the 
truth,  that  God  regards  all  his  creatures 
with  unbounded  affection,  that  if  any 
one  of  his  creatures  have  placed  itself 
in  peril,  it  gains  thereby  a  new  worth  in 
his  sight,  and  a  new  hold  on  his  sym- 
pathy. 

This  is  one  of  those  difficulties  upon 
which,  since  Revelation  is  silent,  it 
becomes  us  not  to  advance  explanatory 
suppositions.  But,  nevertheless,  it  does 
not  militate  against  the  existence  of 
such  a  principle  in  Deity  as  would 
cause  greater  joy  over  the  recovered 
sheep  than  over  the  ninety  and  nine 
which  went  not  astray.  There  is,  per- 
haps, after  all,  in  place  of  diversity,  a 
striking  analogy  between  God's  "deal- 
ings with  angels  and  his  dealings  with 
men.  It  was  only  a  part  of  the  angelic 
race  which  fell ;  it  was  the  whole  of 
the  human.  Hence  the  first  rebellion 
abstracted  not  from  the  heavenly  fold 
one  order  of  beings,  whereas  the  second 
rebel  ion  did.  And  as  the  Almighty 
left  some  angels  to  perish,  whilst  He 
confirmed  others  in  their  dignity  and 
happiness,  will  He  not  leave  some  men 
to  perish,  whilst  He  advances  others  to 
glory  and  blessedness]  He  has  taken 
means  for  bringing  home  the  wandering 
race:  but  this  prevents  not  that  many 
individuals  of  that  race  die  in  the  wil- 


[  derness,    and   never  re-enter  the  fold. 
And  thus  also  with  the  angelic  race — 
I  He  took  means,  we  may  not  doubt,  for 
retaining  this  race  within  the  circles  of 
his  favor;    but  this  prevented  not  that 
many   of  its  individuals    turned    aside 
from   obedience    and   incurred  his  dis- 
i  pleasure.      In  each  case  the  owner  has 
|  to  rejoice  over  a  portion  of  the  race, 
j  but    in  neither  over   the  whole.     And 
I  though   it   may  seem   to  us  marvellous 
I  that    mercy  should   not   have    rejoiced 
j  against  judgment    when    angels   trans- 
I  gressed,  and  that  no  Shepherd  should 
j  have  gone  forth    to  seek   and    to   save 
I  what  was  lost,    let  us  at  least  bear  in 
mind  that  men  may  remain  exiles,  even 
though  redeemed  ;  so  that  God's  deal- 
j  ings    with    ourselves    are    not   such    as 
insure  necessarily  our  restoration  to  the 
fold.      Indeed,   no   Mediator  hath  inter- 
posed on  behalf  of  mighty  spirits  which 
kept  not   their  first   estate.     They  are 
left  on  the  fiery  mountains  of  wrath  and 
tribulation;   and  those  mountains   have 
not    been    traversed   by   the  Shepherd 
seeking  the  wanderers.     But  neverthe- 
less there  is  a  great   analogy  between 
the  conditions  of  the  whole  angelic  and 
of  the  whole  human  race,  seeing  that  in 
neither   case  does  God  suffer    that   an 
orde'- of  creatures  should  be  withdrawn 
from   his   dominion,    and    yet    in    each 
case    allows    that    individuals    of    that 
order  may  remain  in  alienation. 

We  are  not,  therefore,  to  be  moved 
by  what  is  told  us  of  the  abandonment 
of  Satan  and  his  associates,  to  doubt 
the  special  outgoings  of  the  Creator's 
affection  towards  the  prodigal  and  the 
wayward.  We  find  nothing  in  the  in- 
stance to  warrant  a  denial  that  to  Deity, 
as  well  as  to  the  beings  whom  He  hath 
formed,  a  possession,  when  endangered 
or  lost,  appears  more  precious  than 
when  in  safe  keeping.  And  thus,  tbpugh 
angels  were  cast  out  from  heaven,  and 
no  arrangements  made  for  their  being 
restored,  we  still  believe,  that  when 
God  had  provided  for  the  gathering 
back  our  wandering  race  to  Himself, 
and  there  was  certainty  as  to  the  glori- 
ous results  of  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth  succeeding  to  those  which  sin  had 
profaned,  and  of  myriads  of  the  apos- 
tate race  becoming  kings  and  priests 
unto  Him  against  whom  they  had  re- 
belled, then  were  there  such  emotions 
excited  in  our  Maker  as  are  best,  though 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


339 


at  best  but  imperfectly,  described  by 
declaring,  tbat,  looking  upon  men,  and 
on  the  countless  ranks  which  had  kept 
their  allegiance,  He  was  like  the  man 
who,  finding  the  sheep  he  had  lost, 
"  rejoiceth  more  of  that  sheep  than  of 
the  ninety  and  nine  which  went  not 
astray." 

But  it  might  be  inferred  from  the 
parable  under  review,  when  thus  taken 
as  delineating  the  workings  of  Divine 
sympathy,  that  repentance  is  preferable 
to  virtue,  and  that  God  is  better  pleased 
with  those  who  first  wander  and  then 
return,  than  with  others  who  have  never 
left  their  Father's  house.  We  are  sure 
that  this  is  not  a  correct  inference, 
however  naturally  il  may  seem  to  he 
deduced.  We  cannot  doubt  that,  what- 
ever the  pleasure  with  which  God  wel- 
comes back  the  prodigal,  He  does  not 
regard  him  with  greater  favor  than  the 
obedient  son  who  never  went  astray. 
We  suppose  this  truth  to  be  taught  in 
that  somewhat  obscure  portion  of  the 
parable  of  the  prodigal  son  which  re- 
lates the  conduct  of  the  elder  son  on 
finding  how  the  wanderer  had  been 
welcomed.  The  elder  son  complains 
that  there  should  be  such  demonstra- 
tions of  joy  on  the  return  of  a  prodigal, 
whereas  there  had  been  no  tokens  of 
approbation  in  regard  to  himself,  though, 
through  many  years,  he  had  never  trans- 
gressed his  father's  command.  The 
father  does  not  deny  that  he  had  been 
uniformly  obedient,  but  shows,  if  we 
may  use  such  expression,  that  he  was 
better  off  than  the  younger  son,  whose 
return  had  been  the  occasion  of  the 
offensive  rejoicing.  "  Son,  thou  art  ever 
with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine. 
It  was  meet  that  we  should  make  merry 
and  be  glad  ;  for  this  thy  brother  was 
dead  and  is  alive  again,  and  was  lost 
and  is  found."  The  advantage  is  here 
certainly  affirmed  to  be  on  the  side  of 
the  son  who  had  remained  with  the 
father,  and  not  of  him  who  had  wan- 
dered and  then  repented.  There  were 
signs  of  great  joy  at  the  recovery  of 
one  who  had  been  thought  hopelessly 
lost;  and  the  occasion  warranted  the 
manifestation  of  feeling.  But  it  did 
not  follow  that  the  father  regarded  the 
prodigal  with  the  approval  and  affection 
of  which  he  would  have  been  the.  object, 
had  he  never  departed  from  his  home. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  elder  son  who 


has  the  chief  share  in  his  favor  and 
possessions.  "  Son,  thou  ait  ever  with 
me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine."  So 
that  the  parable,  whilst  offering  ever) 
encouragement  to  a  prodigal  if  he  will 
arise  and  go  to  his  father,  is  far  enough 
from  representing  repentance  as  more 
acceptable  to  God  than  uniform  obedi- 
ence. You  cannot  read  the  parable  of 
the  prodigal  son,  and  conclude  from 
the  readiness  anil  gladness  with  which 
he  is  received,  that  it  would  have  been 
better  for  the  elder  son  had  he  joined 
his  brother  in  his  dissoluteness.  The 
parable  does  every  thing  to  induce  yon 
to  return  home,  if  it  find  you  the  pro- 
digal. But  since,  notwithstanding  the 
music  and  dancing  with  which  the  wan 
derer  is  welcomed,  i:  still  assigns  to 
the  elder  son  the  more  blessed  portion, 
you  are  taught  that,  whatever  the  joy 
with  which  God  receives  home  an  exile, 
He  rests  with  the  greatest  complacency 
on  those  of  his  ci'eatures  who  have 
never  transgressed. 

In  like  manner,  you  may  not  affirm 
of  the  parable  under  review,  that  its 
representations  at  all  give  the  preference 
to  repentance  over  uniform  obedience. 
Indeed,  there  is  greater  joy  over  the 
lost  sheep  when  found,  than  over  the 
ninety  and  nine  which  went  not  astray. 
But  we  are  not  told  that  the  shepherd 
loves  the  lost  sheep  better  than  the  rest, 
so  that  the  wanderer  has  gained  by  his 
wanderings.  We  are  told  that  the  re- 
covery of  the  one  ministers  more  to  the 
gladness  of  the  owner  than  the  perma- 
nence of  the  ninety  and  nine  ;  but  we 
are  not  told  that  if  we  would  secure  a 
large  measure  of  favor  and  affection,  it 
is  better  to  be  for  a  time  the  prodigal 
than  always  the  obedient. 

And  in  truth  we  may  learn,  from  the 
workings  of  human  affection,  that  the 
rejoicing  more  of  the  lost  sheep  than  of 
the  ninety  and  nine,  proves  not  that  the 
one  is  more  beloved  than  the  rest.  If 
one  member  of  his  family  be  in.sickness 
or  danger,  does  not  that  one  seem  almost 
to  engross  the  heart  of  the  parent  1  are 
not  the  other  members  comparatively 
forgotten,  so  completely,  for  a  while, 
are  the  thoughts  absorbed  in  the  suffer- 
ing individual  1  h  is  not — and  the 
fathers  and  mothers  amongst  you  know 
that  it  is  not — that  the  sick  child  is  bet- 
ter love  I  than  those  which  are  in  health. 
It  is  not  that  your  affections  are  m*rfl 


340 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


centered  on  the  son  who  is  far  away 
amid  the  perils  of  the  deep  than  on  those 
who  are  sitting  safely  at  your  fireside. 
It  is  only  that  danger  causes  you  to  feel 
a  special  interest  for  the  time  in  some 
one  of  your  offspring — an  interest  which 
for  the  most  part,  ceases  with  the  occa- 
sion, and  which  would  be  immediately 
transferred  to  another  of  the  family,  if 
that  other  were  the  subject  of  the  peril. 
Oh,  we  quite  believe  that  the  mother, 
gazing  on  the  child  who  seems  about  to 
be  taken  from  her  by  death,  is  conscious 
of  a  feeling  of  passionate  attachment 
which  does  not  throb  within  her  as  she 
looks  on  her  other  little  ones  sleeping 
in  their  unbroken  healthfulness.  And 
if  disease  be  suddenly  arrested,  and  the 
child  over  whom  she  had  wept  in  her 
agony  smile  on  her  again,  and  again 
charm  her  with  its  prattle,  why  we  are 
persuaded  that  she  will  rejoice  more  of 
that  child  than  of  its  brothers  and  its 
sisters,  over  whose  beds  she  has  never 
hung  in  anguish.  Yet  it  is  not  that  the 
one  is  dearer  to  her  than  the  others. 
The  probability  of  losing  the  one,  whilst 
the  others  were  safe,  has  caused  a  con- 
centration of  her  solicitudes  and  anxie- 
ties. But  her  heart  is  all  the  while  as 
thoroughly  devoted  to  those  who  need 
not  the  same  intenseness  of  her  maternal 
care  ;  and  you  have  only  to  suppose  the 
sickness  from  which  one  child  has  re- 
covered seizing  on  another,  and  presently 
you  will  see  her  centering  on  this  other 
the  same  eager  watchfulness  ;  and  for 
a  time  will  there  be  again  the  same  ap- 
parent absorption  of  the  affections  :  and 
if  again  there  be  restoration  to  health, 
oh,  again  there  will  be  the  manifesta- 
tions of  an  exuberant  gladness,  and  the 
mother  will  rejoice  more  of  the  boy  or 
the  girl,  who  has  been  snatched  back 
from  the  grave,  than  of  those  members 
of  her  household  who  have  not  approach- 
ed its  confines.  But  not,  we  again  say, 
because  she  loves  one  child  better  than 
the  rest,-»-not  because  the  healthful 
must  become  the  sick,  in  order  to  their 
being  cherished  and  prized.  Whatever 
her  rapture  on  being  told  "  thy  son  liv- 
eth,"  the  mother  would  far  prefer  the 
deep  and  unruffled  tranquillity  of  a 
household  not  visited  by  danger  and 
disease. 

And  thus  also  with  regard  to  moral 
peril,  which  brings  the  case  nearer  to  that 
of  the  parable  under  review.     If  one 


member  of  a  family  grow  up  vicious  and 
dissolute,  whilst  the  others  pursue  sted- 
fastly  a  course  of  obedience  and  virtue, 
it  is  not  to  be  disputed  that  the  thoughts 
of  the  parents  will  almost  be  engrossed 
by  their  profligate  child,  and  that  the 
workings  of  anxious  affection  will  be 
more  evident  in  regard  ^of  this  prodigal 
than  of  the  sons  and  the  daughters  who 
have  given  them  no  cause  for  uneasiness. 
Is  it  that  they  love  the  reckless  better 
than  the  obedient '?  is  it  that  they  would 
love  the  obedient  better,  if  they  were 
turned  into  the  reckless  ]  You  know  that 
this  is  no  true  account  of  the  matter. 
You  know  that  the  seeing  what  we  love 
in  danger,  excites  that  interest  on  its  be- 
half which  we  are  scarcely  conscious  of, 
whilst  we  see  it  in  security.  The  dan- 
ger serves  to  bring  out  the  affection,  and 
to  show  us  its  depth  ;  but  it  rather  af- 
fords occasion  of  manifestation  than 
increases  the  amount.  And,  beyond 
question,  if  the  child  whose  perverseness 
and  profligacy  have  disquieted  the  fa- 
ther and  the  mother,  causing  them  anx- 
ious days  and  sleepless  nights,  turn  from 
the  error  of  his  ways,  and  "seek  their 
forgiveness  and  blessing  ere  they  die, 
there  will  be  excited  such  emotions  in 
their  hearts  as  have  never  been  stirred 
by  the  rectitude  and  obedience  of  the 
rest  of  their  offspring.  We  are  sure, 
that  if  you  could  contemplate  the  fami- 
ly on  that  happy  day.  when  the  long- 
vacant  chair  was  occupied  by  the  prod- 
igal, you  would  observe  that  the  eye  of 
the  parent  glistened  most,  when  it  rest- 
ed on  the  son  who  had  drawn  forth  its 
tears ;  ay,  and  that  when  at  night,  ere 
they  went  to  their  rest,  they  knelt  down 
together,  and  the  old  man  invoked  God's 
blessing  on  his  household,  the  faltering 
words  would  be,  and  the  deep  emphasis 
would  be,  and  the  rich  thankfulness 
would  be,  when  he  spake  of  a  sheep 
that  had  been  lost  and  was  found,  rather 
than  when  mentioning  those  which  never 
went  astray.  Yet  you  would  never 
think  that  the  wanderer  was  better 
loved  than  his  brethren.  You  would 
never  think  that  the  evident  emotions 
of  the  parent,  and  the  gushings  of  his 
heart  towards  his  repentant  child,  and 
the  more  apparent  hold  which  had  been 
gained  on  his  affections  through  separa- 
tion and  anxiety,  might  be  inducements 
with  the  children  who  had  never  trans- 
to  imitate  their  brother  in  his 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


34] 


rebellion  and  lawlessness.  You  would 
never  come  away  from  the  survey  of  so 
beautiful  a  picture,  the  picture  of  a 
family  gladdened  by  the  presence  of  a 
long-absent  member,  a  member  whose 
name  has  been,  perhaps,  almost  banish- 
ed, as  a  forbidden  thing,  from  the  circle 
— so  dishonored  has  it  been,  and  so 
sullied  ; — the  picture  of  a  father  and  a 
mother,  compensated  for  all  their  sor- 
rows and  prayers,  by  the  return  to  their 
embrace  and  their  household  of  the  sol- 
itary alien  who  alone  ever  gave  them 
pain,  whilst  brothers  and  sisters  cluster 
round,  and  smile  on  the  stranger,  and 
breathe  a  deep  welcome  ; — oh,  we  say, 
you  would  never  come  away  from  the 
survey  of  a  picture,  so  rich  in  moral 
loveliness,  with  any  lurking  suspicion 
that  repentance  was  preferable  to  unva- 
ried obedience,  or  that  the  children 
might  infer,  from  the  unwonted  joyous- 
ness  of  their  parents,  that  their  affections 
would  be  best  gained  by  grieving  them 
for  a  time,  and  then  seeking  their  for- 
giveness. 

And,  in  like  manner,  so  far  as  we 
may  carry  up  the  illustration  from  the 
earthly  to  the  heavenly,  we  deny,  that, 
in  representing  God  as  rejoicing  more 
over  the  recovered  tribe  than  over  those 
which  never  fell,  we  represent  Him  as 
better  pleased  with  repentance  than  with 
uniform  obedience.  We  do  but  ascribe 
to  Him  human  emotions,  just  in  order 
to  show  that  there  is  a  tenderness  in 
Deity  which  makes  Him  solicitous,  if 
the  word  be  allowable,  for  those  who 
have  brought  themselves  into  danger 
and  difficulty,  and  which  renders  their 
deliverance  an  object  of  such  mighty 
importance,  that,  when  achieved,  it  may 
be  said  to  minister  more  to  his  happi- 
ness than  the  homage  of  the  myriads 
who  never  moved  his  displeasure.  And 
when,  through  the  energies  of  redemp- 
tion, the  human  race  was  reinstated  in 
the  place  whence  it  fell,  it  was  not  that 
God  prefers  the  penitent  to  those  who 
never  swerved  from  allegiance,  and  has 
greater  delight  in  men  who  have  sinned, 
than  in  angels  who  have  always  obeyed  ; 
it  was  not  on  these  accounts  that  He 
was  more  gladdened,  as  we  suppose 
Him,  by  the  recovery  of  what  had  wan- 
dered, than  by  the  stedfastness  of  what 
remained.  It  was  only  because,  where 
there  has  been  ground  of  anxiety,  and 
a  beloved  object  has  been  in  peril,  his 


restoration    and   safety  open   channels 

inn.  which,  for  a  while,  the  sympathies 
of  the  heart  seem  to  pour  all  their  ful- 
ness,— it  was  only  on  this  account  that, 
Divine  things  being  illustrated  by  hu- 
man, our  Creator  might  be  likened  to  a 
man,  who  having  found  on  the  moun- 
tains the  one  sheep  he  had  lost,  "  rejoic- 
e'th  more  of  that  sheep,  than  of  the 
ninety  and  nine  which  went  not  astray." 
But  we  have  yet  to  take  a  more  con- 
fined view  of  the  parable  in  question. 
We  judge  from  its  context,  as  given  by 
St.  Matthew,  that  Christ  designed  to 
indicate  the  carefulness  of  Cod  in  re- 
ference to  the  erring  members  of  the 
Church,  which  is  specially  his  flock. 
He  is  there  speaking  of  the  little  ones, 
who  are  his  disciples  and  followers; 
|  and  the  truth  which  He  declares  illus- 
j  trated  by  the  parable  is,  that  it  is  not 
J  the  will  of  the  Father  that  "  one  of 
these  little  ones  should  perish."  So, 
then,  we  may  regard  the  whole  company 
of ,  the  faithful  as  the  hundred  sheep, 
and  the  one  that  wanders  from  the  fold 
as  that  too  frequent  character  which  is 
spoken  of  in  Scripture  under  the  name 
of  the  backslider.  God  exercises  a 
wonderful  forbearance  in  respect  of  the 
backslider.  The  remonstrances  of  his 
Spirit,  the  warnings  of  his  Providence, 
the  exhortations  of  good  men, — by  all 
these  does  He  urge  upon  him  the  neces- 
sity, if  he  would  not  be  finally  lost,  of 
returning  to  the  home  he  has  left.  And 
if  the  sheep,  disappointed  in  its  search 
after  green  spots  in  the  wilderness,  and 
torn  with  the  briers  of  the  world,  hearken 
to  the  loving  invitation,  and  suffer  itself 
to  be  carried  back  to  the  fold,  then  it 
is  not  that  God  has  greater  affection 
towards  the  wanderer,  than  towards 
those  who  have  been  firm  and  consistent 
in  religion  :  He  does  not  prefer  the 
backslider,  when  he  has  returned,  to 
those  who  have  always  walked  worthy 
of  their  vocation  ;  and  yet  we  may  be- 
lieve, that,  since  the  backslider  has 
been  in  danger,  whilst  other  members 
of  the  flock  have  been  in  safety,  the 
chief  Shepherd  will  experience  a  de- 
light in  the  restoration  of  tin;  lonely 
outcast,  which  He  does  not  gather  from 
the  abiding  of  the  many  who  never  leave 
his  side;  and  that  thus  it  will  again 
come  to  pass,  that  He  "  rejoiceih  more 
of  the  sheep  that  was  lost,  than  of  the 
ninety  and  nine  which  went  not  astray." 


312 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


In  like  manner — and  this  is  the  case 
to  which  the  parable  seems  applied  by 
St.  Luke — you  may  regard  the  whole 
human  family  as  the  flock,  those  who 
believe  in  the  good  Shepherd  who  gave 
his  life  for  the  sheep  as  that  portion  of 
the  flock  which  has  been  brought  into 
the  fold,  those  who  are  still  practically 
strangers  to  Christ  as  the  wanderers 
who  are  yet  upon  the  mountains.  And 
the  Shepherd,  who  bought  the  flock 
with  his  blood,  longs  and  strives  to 
gather  in  these  wanderers.  He  has  no 
anxiety  in  respect  of  those  who  have 
entered  the  fold.  In  them  He  hath 
seen  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  been 
satisfied.  He  is  assured  of  their  safety ; 
and  therefore  are  his  thoughts,  as  yours 
would  be,  if  one  dear  friend  were  in 
imminent  peril,  with  the  exiles  who 
are  far  away  in  the  wilds.  The  righte- 
ous, those  who  are  justified  by  faith  in 
his  merits,  "  need  no  repentance ;  " 
they  have  already  been  converted  ;  and 
though  they  daily  commit  offences,  for 
which  they  should  daily  be  humbled  in 
contrition,  they  cannot  again  require 
that  thorough  change  of  mind  which  is 
what  Scripture  emphatically  designates 
repentance.  It  is  not  then  for  the  righte- 
ous, but  for  those  who  have  never  turned 
to  God,  that  his  solicitudes  are  engaged. 
And  who  shall  marvel,  if,  when  a  sinner 
repents,  and  obtains  share  in  the  suc- 
cors of  redemption,  that  Almighty  Being 
who  hath  loved  him,  and  watched  for 
him,  and  sought  him,  should  draw 
greater  gladness  from  this  accession  to 
his  fold,  than  from  the  numbers  who 
have  been  long  within  its  precincts'? 
oh,  who  shall  think  it  any  proof  of 
indifference  to  stedfast  allegiance,  and 
of  a  preference  of  repentance  to  uniform 
obedience,  if  he  rejoice  more  of  the 
sheep  that  was  lost,  than  of  the  ninety 
and  nine  which  went  not  astray  % 

And  now,  may  we  not  say,  that  if  the 
highest  of  created  beings,  nay,  if  the 
Creator  Himself,  may  be  set  before  us 
as  eagerly  intent  on  succoring  the  des- 
titute, and  upholding  the  weak,  it  must 
certainly  be  required  of  us,  that  we  imi- 
tate, at  whatever  distance,  the  patterns 
thus  presented,  and  seek  assiduously 
that  we  be  instruments  in  God's  hands 
for  bringing  into  his  fold  the  sheep  yet 
upon  the  mountains  ]  It  is  thus  that 
our  subject  applies  itself,  forcibly,  and 
at  once,  to  the  charitable  cause  which 


we  have  to  ask  you  to  support.  Un- 
questionably, if  any  class  of  persons 
may  specially  be  described  as  little  ones, 
left  to  wander,  as  sheep  without  a  .shep- 
herd, on  the  bleak  mountains  of  the 
earth,  we  may  apply  the  expressions  to 
young  orphans,  deprived  of  their  natur 
al  guardians,  and  thrown  on  the  com 
passions  of  strangers.  And  if,  therefore, 
there  be  a  case  to  which  the  touching  les- 
sons of  the  parable  are  peculiarly  ap- 
plicable, it  is  that  of  the  children  who 
now  appeal  to  your  bounty.  We  need 
not  describe  to  you  the  deserted  state 
of  orphans,  often  left  with  no  spot  upon 
earth,  but  the  grave  of  their  parents, 
with  which  they  can  feel  any  natural 
association.  We  need  not  strive  to  paint 
to  you  the  desolate  condition  of  a  fam 
ily,  from  which  sickness  or  accident  has 
suddenly  removed  the  head  ;  the  dreari- 
ness of  the  widow,  as  she  rises  from  the 
corpse  of  her  husband,  looks  through 
her  tears  on  her  boys  and  her  girls,  and 
thinks  that  he  who  loved  them,  and  la- 
bored for  them,  and  brought  them  their 
bread,  has  embraced  them  for  the  last 
time,  and  left  them  in  utter  destitution. 
The  most  affecting  of  all  spectacles,  in 
a  world  which  presents  every  variety 
of  wretchedness,  is  that  of  a  household 
from  which  death  lias  removed  the  only 
barrier  against  poverty,  the  family 
group  weeping  over  the  coffin  which 
contains  the  single  friend  to  whom  they 
could  look  up  for  support.  Oh  !  the 
very  youngest,  yet  too  young  to  know 
their  loss,  mingle  their  tears  with  the 
elders,  as  though  our  nature  instinctively 
recoiled  from  the  fearful  loneliness  of 
the  orphan.  Certainly  you  will  not 
deny  that  here  are  the  little  ones,  left 
upon  the  mountains,  without  a  shelter, 
without  a  shepherd.  And  if  it  be  a 
duty  to  seek  the  wandering,  to  direct 
them  into  safe  paths,  to  provide  that  they 
be  brought,  if  possible,  within  the  fold 
of  our  heavenly  Father,  you  must  feel 
that  it  is  in  regard  of  these  sheep  ;  so 
that  to  be  neglectful  of  the  orphan,  is  to 
put  from  us  the  lessons  which  the  para- 
ble before  us  so  impressively  inculcates. 
And  we  thank  God  that  we  can 
affirm  of  our  metropolis,  that  amongst 
its  noble  institutions  which  propose  the 
relief  of  the  varieties  of  human  wretch- 
edness, it  numbers  asylums  for  the 
orphan.  The  benevolent,  whilst  crown- 
ing   this    city    with    its    most    glorious 


THE  LOST  SHEEP. 


343 


diadem,  the  diadem  not  of  castle  and 
palace,  but  of  refuges  which  arc  as  cas- 
tles, and  of  hospitals  which  are  as 
palaces,  have  not  failed  to  make  thai 
diadem  complete  in  its  beauty,  by  rear- 
ing structures  which  may  give  shelter 
to  the  fatherless.  Of  late  years  several 
institutions  have  arisen  for  orphans;  but 
none  more  worthy  of  the  succor  of 
Englishmen  tbau  that  of  which  I  now 
stand  as  advocate.  The  name  pleads 
the  cause — "the  Merchant  Seamen's 
Orphan  Asylum."  The  Orphans  of 
seamen  !  Shame  upon  the  Briton  who 
cares  not  for  the  sailor:  our  country 
sits  a  queen  upon  the  waves,  and  it  is 
mainly  to  our  seamen  that,  under  God, 
she  owes  her  greatness  and  her  majesty. 
The  orphans  of  merchant  seamen — those 
seamen  who  carry  on  the  commerce, 
rather  than  fight  the  battles,  of  England, 
who  do  not,  therefore,  establish  any 
claim,  whether  fin-  themselves  or  their 
children,  on  the  national  institutions,  but 
whose  services  are  not  less  arduous,  not 
less  dangerous,  not  less  important,  than 
if  they  were  engaged  in  pouring  the 
thunders  of  war  on  the  foes  who  would 
dispute  with  us  the  empire  of  the  seas. 
It  is  for  the  orphans  of  merchant  sea- 
men that  we  now  ask  your  bounty — ■ 
the  orphans  of  the  men  who  bear  our 
manufactures  to  every  land,  and  bring 
into  our  ports  the  productions  of  every 
soil  ;  who  carry  out  the  Bibles  and  the 
missionaries  through  which  we  look  for 
a  shaking  of  the  whole  system  of  hea- 
thenism ;  who,  if  not  actually  engaged 
in  fighting  our  battles,  compose  the 
body  from  which,  if  the  demons  of  war 
were  again  let  loose,  must  be  draughted 
the  thousands  who  would  man  those 
mighty  vessels  which  now  sleep  idly  on 
their  shadows,  and  guide  them  to  the 
triumphs  of  another  Nile  and  another 
Trafalgar.  Ay,  it  is  for  the  orphans  of 
men  such  as  these  that  the  Asylum 
whose  cause  I  now  plead  throws  open 
its  doors.  And  as  I  stand  here,  and  can 
almost  look  on  that  finest  spectacle 
which  our  metropolis  presents,  the 
forests  of  masts  which  rises,  far  as  the 
can  reach,  from  its  noble  river,  I 
cannot  but  feel  how  many  wives  of  mer- 
chant seamen  there  must  be  who  turn 
pale  when  they  hear  the  fury  of  the 
storm,  and  remember  how  the  fathers 
of  their  children  are  far  away  on 
the  surges  of  the  deep  ;  how  often  must 


ey< 


come  tidings  of  shipwreck  which  tell  the 

Wife  that    she  is    a    widow,  that    the  one 

whom  she  best  loved  has  gone  down 
with  the  waves  for  his  winding-sheet, 
and  that  her  children  must  be  hencefor- 
ward destitute!  Oh,  not  so;  English 
benevolence,  your  benevolence,  will  for- 
bid this;  and  the  distracted  mother  shall 

be  comforted,  and  shall  know  that  vou 
have  helped  to  provide  a  home  for  her 
orphans. 

I  preach  to  you  on  a  day  which 
will  be  held  in  remembrance  for  cen- 
turies to  come,  yea,  whilst  England  is  a 
nation,  and  then;  is  one  of  her  children 
still  left  upon  the  globe.  Remember  ye 
not  that  on  this  day  was  fought  the  most 
important  of  battles  on  this  day  was  won 
the  noblest  of  the  victories  which  have 
shed  au  imperishable  glory  over  the  land 
of  our  birth  ?  On  this  day  it  was  that  a 
British  general  and  a  British  army  worst- 
ed the  power  of  France,  and  achieved,  on 
the  plain  of  Waterloo,  peace  for  distract- 
ed Europe.  How  can  the  anniversary  of 
the  day  occur,  and  not  wake  in  English 
hearts  glorious  recollections,  and  emo- 
tions of  rich  thankfulness  to  that  Being 
"unto  whom  belong  the  shields  of  the 
earth?"  The  thunder  of  the  war 
comes  rolling  upon  fancy's  car ;  the 
rushing,  mingling  squadrons  pass  before 
fancy's  eye;  and  the  God  of  battles 
compels  the  proud  conqueror  in  a  hun- 
dred campaigns  to  crouch  and  flee  be- 
fore our  own  immortal  chieftain. 

But  what  has  the  victory  of  Waterloo 
to  do  with  the  cause  for  which  I  now 
plead  1  Every  thing.  This  victory 
opened  to  England  the  commerce  of  the 
world.  This  victory  caused  that  every 
sea  should  be  dotted  with  our  ships. 
This  victory  multiplied  a  thousandfold 
our  merchant  seamen.  This  victory 
multiplied,  I  cannot  tell  you  in  what 
proportion,  the  orphans  of  merchant 
seamen.  Then  I  may  call  upon  you,  by 
the  shades  of  those  who  fell  at  Water- 
loo, by  the  memory  of  the  brave  fellows 
who,  as  on  this  day,  set   themselves 


a  rampart  against  your  toes 


and  secured 


by  their  valor  and  their  blood  your  cities 
and  your  valleys  from  hostile  aggression, 
to  give  liberally  to  the  institution  which 
now  appeals  for  support.  I  am  bold  to 
say  that  the  hurricane  and  the  battle, 
the  ocean  with  its  crested  billows,  and 
war  with  its  magnificently  stern  retinue, 
meet  and  mingle  to  give   force  to  our 


344 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


appeal.  It  is  an  appeal  from  stranded 
navies  ;  but  it  is  echoed  also  from  the 
mounds  of  slaughtered  battalions  who, 
on  the  recurrence  of  this  day,  seem  to 
wheel  about  us  in  pale  procession,  to 
admonish  us  of  our  debt  of  gratitude, 
and  to  entreat  us  not  to  desert  those  who 
are  widowed  and  orphaned  through 
their  victory. 

What  need  we  add  more  ?  We  will 
plead  for  the  Asylum  which  now  solicits 
support,  on  the  principle  that  God  has 
revealed  Himself  under  the  character  of 
a  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  that  the 
visiting  the  fatherless  and  the  widows 
in  their  affliction  is  a  main  part  of  the 
scriptural  definition  of  undefined  religion. 
Oh,  what  was  this  world  but  an  orphan- 
ed world  1  what  was  our  race  but  a  race 
deprived  of  its  natural  guardian,  when 
God  sent  his  own  Son  to  seek  and  to 
save  that  which  was  lost  ?  Had  there 
been  no  mercy  for  orphans,  no  compas- 
sion for  the  shipwrecked,  then  must  we 
all  have  remained  for  ever  on  the  moun- 
tains of  tribulation.  But  there  was 
mercy  for  orphans  ;  there  was   compas- 


sion for  the  shipwrecked  :  the  Almighty, 
by  a  marvellous  exertion  of  loving-kind- 
ness, threw  open  an  asylum  large  enough 
for  the  whole  human  race,  and  made 
provision  that  every  child  of  calamity  and 
sin  might  flee,  if  he  would,  to  its  mag- 
nificent shelter.  And  now  so  much 
having  been  done  for x  ourselves,  shall 
we  not  be  diligent  in  our  endeavors  to 
prove  that  we  are  not  unmindful  of  the 
example  left  us  by  our  Redeemer  1  Oh, 
we  cannot,  as  He  did,  touch  the  bier, 
and  give  back  the  child  to  the  embrace 
of  the  widowed  mother  ;  but  we  can 
comfort  the  widow's  heart  by  snatching 
her  child  from  a  darker  estate  than  the 
grave ;  we  can  provide  an  asylum  for 
that  child,  within  whose  walls  it  may 
be  trained  for  admission  to  those  man- 
sions which  Christ  hath  reared  for  the 
righteous — yea,  we  may  be  instrumental 
in  fetching  home  at  least  one  little  lamb 
which  must  otherwise  wander  in  the 
desert ;  and  it  should  animate  us  to  know 
that  God  will  rejoice  more  of  that  sheep, 
than  of  the  ninety  and  nine  which  went 
not  astray. 


SERMON   XI. 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


For  my  people 


Lve  committed  two  evils:  they  have  forsaken  ine  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  i 
out  cisterns,  broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water."— Jeremiah  ii.  13. 


It  would  ill  become  me  as  a  minister 
of  the  Established  and  Protestant  Church 
of  this  kingdom  to  address  you  on  the 
present  anniversary,  without  referring 
to  those  two  great  events  which  have 
been  commemorated  in  the  services  of 
the  day.     Though  not  a  friend  to  the 

"  Preached  at  Catndeu  Chapel,  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  Gunpowder  Plot. 


keeping  up  observances  which  might 
only  be  calculated  to  the  keeping  up 
irritated  feelings,  far  less  would  I  be  a 
friend  to  the  ceasing  to  give  thanks  for 
a  great  national  deliverance,  or  to  ac- 
knowledge a  great  religious  benefit. 
And  far  less  would  I  be  silent  when 
silence  might  be  construed  into  an  ad- 
mission of  there  being  no  important 
difference    between  Protestantism   and 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


3  to 


Popery,  of  its  being  time  that  we  freed 
ourselves  from  the  bigotry  of  our  fore- 
fathers, and  looked  with  less  dislike,  or 
less  fear,  on  the  Roman  Catholic  re- 
ligion. The  two  events  which  are  this 
day  commemorated  stand  closely  asso- 
ciated, as  you  must  all  be  aware,  with 
the  Protestantism  of  England.  On  this 
day  was  to  have  been  carried  into  exe- 
cution that  most  diabolical  scheme,  ever 
since  known  as  the  Gunpowder  Plot, 
which  was  to  have  destroyed  at  one 
moment  the  king,  lords,  and  commons 
of  this  realm,  and  thus  have  made  a 
clear  scene  for  papal  intrigue  and  papal 
domination.  On  this  same  day,  but 
after  an  interval  of  seventy-three  years, 
did  William  prince  of  Orange,  the  son- 
in-law  of  James  II.,  land  in  our  coun- 
try, summoned  by  the  people,  who  saw 
that  their  king  was  bent  on  re-establish- 
ing Popery,  and  who  felt  that  in  so 
doing  he  would  rob  them  of  all  that 
was  most  precious. 

It  is  evident  that  in  thankfully  ac- 
knowledging these  events,  we  acknow- 
ledge it  as  an  incalculable  blessing  that 
Protestantism  has  been  upheld  in  this 
kingdom,  and  Popery  not  been  suffered 
to  regain  the  ascendancy.  The  observ- 
ance of  the  day  is  a  national  recognition 
of  the  great  principles  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, and  as  such  offers  an  important 
opportunity  to  the  Protestant  clergy  of 
reminding  their  hearers  what  those 
principles  were,  and  of  entreating  them 
to  take  heed  that  they  desert  them  not, 
as  though  Popery  were  changed,  and 
no  longer  to  be  dreaded.  We  would 
not  fail  to  embrace  this  opportunity. 
We  shall  say  nothing  at  present  as  to 
whether  there  be  aught  in  the  aspect  of 
the  times  to  make  it  specially  import- 
ant that  every  due  occasion  be  taken 
of  impressing  upon  Protestants  their 
peculiar  duties  and  privileges.  But  at 
least,  if  the  Reformation  were  worth 
achieving,  and  if  it  be  worth  maintain- 
ing, the  present  institution  deserves  to 
be  solemnly  kept ;  and  we  shall  accord- 
ingly proceed,  without  further  preface, 
to  the  addressing  you  on  topics  which 
we  have  described  as  appropriate  to 
such  an  anniversary.  Our  text  will,  we 
think,  furnish  us  with  the  fitting  mate- 
rial. They  are  the  words  of  God  Him- 
self, upbraiding  the  Jews  with  deserting 
his  worship  and  embracing  idolatry. 
And  so  appalling  did  such  an  act  of 
VOL.  II. 


national  apostacy  appear  in  the  eyea  of 
the  Almighty  Himself,  ih.it  Ee  intro- 
duces its  mention  by  a  solemn  appeal 
to  the  heavens — whether  the  firmament, 
with  its  many  worlds  which,  inanimate 
though  they  were,  might  almost  In- 
considered  as  roused  into  listening  when 
a  thing  so  atrocious  had  to  In-  told  ;  <>r 
angels,  those  radiant  intelligences,  who, 
with  all  their  gloriousness,  were  intent 
on  promoting  the  happiness  of  unu. 
"  Be  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at  this, 
and  be  horribly  afraid ;  be  ye  very 
desolate,  saith  the  Lord." 

It  must  indeed  be  something  extraor- 
dinary in  wickedness  which  is  introduc- 
ed by  such  an  address  to  the  heavens. 
Yet  it  is  that  whereof  we  ourselves  are 
in  much  danger  of  being  guilty.  It  is 
that,  we  are  bold  at  once  to  say,  whereof 
we  should  be  guilty  if,  having  been  de- 
livered from  the  yoke  and  trammels  of 
Popery,  we  should  suffer  ourselves  to 
be  again  entangled  and  brought  into 
bondage.  For  if  it  were  a  less  open, 
it  would  not,  we  are  persuaded,  be  a  less 
actual  abandonment  of  the  fountain  of 
living  waters  for  "  broken  cisterns  which 
can  hold  no  water,"  were  a  people, 
privileged  with  the  reformed  religion, 
to  lapse  into  Romanism,  than  it  was 
when  Israel  of  old  forsook  the  institu- 
tions of  Moses,  and  did  homage  at  the 
altars  of  Baal  and  Ashtaroth.  And  this 
at  once  opens  before  you  the  special 
point  of  view  under  which  we  would 
have  our  text  considered  on  the  present 
occasion.  It  will  become  us  indeed, 
in  the  first  place,  to  treat  it  more  gener- 
ally, lest  you  fall  into  the  error  of  sup- 
posing that  it  is  only  by  turning  Papists 
that  you  can  imitate  the  conduct  so 
sternly  denounced  in  the  Israelites. 
Afterwards  we  shall  endeavor  to  en- 
gage your  attention  with  such  contrasts 
between  the  Reformed  Church  and  the 
Roman  as  might  justify  our  accom- 
modating the  text  to  Protestants  who 
should  become  Papists.  Thus,  then, 
our  topics  of  discourse  are  sufficiently 
defined.  In  the  first  place,  we  are  to 
examine  how  the  two  evils  here  de- 
nounced may  be  committed  generally 
by  all  men;  in  the  second  place,  how 
they  may  be  committed  particularly  by 
Protestants  :  we  are  to  examine,  that 
is,  how,  in  the  first  place,  as  the  crea- 
tures of  God,  and  how,  in  the  second, 
as  members  of  a  Reformed  Church,  we 


346 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


are  in  danger  of  so  acting  that  the 
heavens  may  be  called  upon  to  be 
astonished,  yea,  horribly  afraid  and 
very  desolate,  seeing  that  we  shall  have 
forsaken  the  fountain  of  living  waters, 
and  hewn  out  to  ourselves  "  cisterns, 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water." 

Now  whilst  there  are  two  evils  dis- 
tinctly specified  in  the  text,  we  are  not 
to  suppose  that  they  are  ever  committed 
separately,  the  one  without  the  other : 
no  man  forsakes  the  living  fountain  who 
does  not  also  hew  out  the  broken  cistern 
— for  there  is  a  search  after  happiness 
in  which  all  men  naturally,  and  even 
necessarily,  engage;  and  if  they  do  not 
seek  happiness  in  God,  where  alone  it 
may  be  found,  they  will  inevitably  seek 
it  in  the  creature,  though  only  to  be 
cheated  and  disappointed.  And  God 
gives  a  most  emphatic  and  comprehen- 
sive description  of  Himself,  when  He 
calls  Himself  "the  fountain  of  living 
waters" — "the  fountain,"  in  that  He 
has  all  being,  all  grace  in  Himself,  in 
that  He  is  the  source  of  all  existence, 
the  spring  of  all  enjoyment  :  the  foun- 
tain of  "  living  waters,"  inasmuch  as 
there  are  no  waters  but  in  and  from  Him 
to  slake  the  thirst  of  the  soul,  the  im- 
mortal principle,  whose  cravings  are 
not  to  be  appeased  but  by  that  which 
hath  "  life  in  itself." 

But  if  a  "  fountain  of  living  waters" 
most  accurately  describe  the  Creator, 
then  may  all  created  good,  as  distin- 
guished from,  or  set  in  opposition  to, 
the  Creator,  be  with  equal  accuracy  de- 
scribed as  "  cisterns,  broken  cisterns, 
that  can  hold  no  water  :"  in  the  first 
place,  as  "  cisterns"  because  of  small 
capacity,  and  containing  nothing  but 
what  is  derived  from  another ;  in  the 
second  place,  as  "  broken"  cisterns,  for- 
asmuch as  sin  has  marred  the  choicest 
vessels  which  the  Almighty's  hand 
wrought ;  in  the  third  place,  as  cisterns 
"  that  will  hold  no  water,"  seeing  that 
they  can  afford  no  real,  no  constant,  no 
satisfying  comfort :  there  is  in  them  but 
enough  to  mock  the  thirst ;  and  he  who 
thinks  to  take  a  full  draught  finds  that 
the  water  has  leaked  through  and  left 
his  wants  unsupplied.  Yet  notwith- 
standing that  these  several  truths  are  at- 
tested by  universal  experience — for  who 
ever  sought  happiness  in  the  Creator, 
and  did  not  find  hi  who  ever  sought 
happiness  in  the  creature,  and  did  not 


miss  it  1 — there  i6  continually  going  on 
the  same  forsaking  of  the  fountain,  the 
same  hewing  out  of  the  cistern,  which 
are  so  pathetically  and  indignantly  de 
nounced  in  the  text.  "  Man  still  walk- 
eth  in  a  vain  shadow,  and  disquieteth 
himself  in  vain  :"  in  spite  of  a  thousand 
demonstrations  that  he" has  been  made 
for  God,  and  that  in  God  alone  can  he 
find  what  shall  be  adequate  to  his  capa- 
city, how  will  he  pursue  what  must  es- 
cape him,  and  toil  for  what  must  deceive  ! 
There  is  something  very  striking  in  the 
expression  "  hewed  them  out  cisterns/' 
What  labor  does  it  indicate,  what  effort, 
what  endurance  !  You  seem  to  behold 
men  in  the  very  quarry,  grappling  with 
the  huge  rocks,  and  applying  all  their 
skill  and  their  sinew  to  the  fashioning 
reservoirs  which,  so  fast  as  they  are 
formed,  are  found  to  have  flaws,  so  that 
the  labor  is  thrown  away,  and  the  task 
has  again  to  be  begun.  "  Hewed  them 
out  cisterns."  Had  the  cisterns  been 
ready  made  to  their  hands,  there  had 
not  been  so  much  with  which  to  upbraid 
them,  or  for  which  to  reprove.  Hut 
God  has  caused  that  it  shall  be  actually 
I  a  toilsome  thing  for  men  to  seek  happi- 
I  ness  in  the  creature.  Witness  the  dig- 
!  gings,  so  to  speak,  of  avarice  :  witness 
I  the  painful  climbings  of  ambition  :  wit- 
ness the  disgusts  and  disappointments 
of  sensuality.  You  have  to  "  hew  out" 
the  cisterns — and  even  this  were  little: 
the  material  is  fragile  as  well  as  hard  ; 
and  what  you  shape  you  also  shatter. 

Were  not  this  so  well  known,  we 
might  almost  say  self-evident,  there  might 
comparatively  be  some  excuse  foi  the 
continued  endeavor  to  obtain  from  cre- 
ated things  the  material  of  happiness. 
But  observe  how  God  makes  it  an  ag- 
gravation of  the  sin  of  his  being  forsaken, 
that  He  is  forsaken  for  that  which  must 
demand  toil,  and  then  yield  disappoint- 
ment. He  sets  the  "  fountain  of  living 
waters"  in  contrast  with  "  broken  cis- 
terns"— as  though  He  would  point  out 
the  vast  indignity  offered  Hiin.  in  that 
what  was  preferred  was  so  unworthy 
and  insufficient.  It  is  the  langn  i  :e  not 
only  of  jealousy — of  jealousy  in  that 
refined  yet  terrible  sense  in  which  Holy 
Scripture  applies  it  unto  God — but  of 
jealousy  stung  to  the  very  quick  by  the 
baseness  of  the  object  to  which  the 
plighted  affection  has  been  unblushing- 
ly  transferred.     Had  it    been  fountain 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


347 


against  fountain,  had  there  heen  any 
place  for  comparison,  so  that  men  might 
have  wavered  as  to  where  the  living 
waters  were,  there  had  been  less  to  move 
a  jealous  God.  But  the  cistern,  the  cis- 
tern that  has  to  be  hewn  out,  the  broken 
cistern,  the  cistern  that  can  hold  no  wa- 
ter— to  be  forsaken  for  this — '•  Wonder, 
O  heavens,  and  be  astonished,  O  earth." 
Ah,  my  brethren,  this  is  the  last  thing 
which  gives  such  an  emphasis  to  the 
passage.  God  speaks  of  his  people  as 
offering  Him  this  indignity;  but  He 
does  not  speak  to  his  people.  No,  He 
addresses  Himself  rather  to  the  inani- 
mate, the  irrational.  He  tells  his  griev- 
ance to  the  material  creation,  as  though 
even  that  were  more  likely  to  feel  and 
resent  it  than  the  beings  who  were  ac- 
tually guilty  of  the  sin.  And  ye  who 
are  setting  up  idols  for  yourselves,  ye 
who,  in  spite  of  every  demonstration  of 
the  uselessness  of  the  endeavor,  are 
striving  to  be  happy  without  God,  we 
will  not  reason  with  you  :  it  were  like 
passing  too  slight  censure  on  your  sin, 
it  were  representing  it  as  less  blinding, 
less  besotting,  than  it  actually  is,  to 
suppose  that  you  would  attend  to,  or 
feel  the  force  of,  an  ordinary  remon- 
strance. But  if  ye  have  done,  or  if  ye 
are  doing,  this  thing — if  there  he  those 
of  you  who  worship  the  images  which 
the  madness  of  practical  atheism  hath 
set  up,  leaving  the  Creator  for  the  crea- 
ture, making  gold  your  trust,  or  dis- 
tinction your  aim,  or  pleasure  your 
God,  stand  ye  indeed  apart  :  ye  are 
scarcely  to  be  regarded  as  exercising 
the  faculties  of  rational  beings ;  some 
demon  hath  bewitched  you,  so  mon- 
strous is  the  cheat  which  you  are  put- 
ting on  yourselves.  Shall  a  fellow-man 
argue  with  you,  as  though  he  thought 
to  convince  you,  when  the  thing  which 
you  practically  deny  is,  that  the  soul  is 
larger  than  any  finite  good  1  the  thing 
which  you  practically  affirm,  that  the 
shadow  is  the  substance,  the  phantom 
the  reality  1  Nay,  we  had  better  do  as 
is  done  in  our  text.  It  may  move  you 
more,  ye  worshippers  of  visible  things, 
to  find  yourselves  treated  as  past  being 
reasoned  with,  than  flattered  with  ad- 
dresses which  suppose  in  you  the  full 
play  of  the  understanding  and  the 
judgment.  Ye  will  not  hearken  : 
"  Every  one  turned  to  his  course,  as  the 
horse  rusheth  into  the  battle  :"  but  there 


are  those  who  witness  and  wonder  at 
your  madness  ;  the  visible  universe,  as 
if  amazed  at  finding  itself  searched  for 
that  which  its  own  sublime  and  cease- 
less proclamations  declare  to  be  no- 
where but  in  God,  assumes  a  listening 
posture;  and  whilst  the  Almighty  pub- 
lishes your  infatuation,  your  1. 
in  that  ye  have  forsaken  tin-  fountain 
of  living  waters,  and  hewn  out  broken 
cisterns,  He  hath  secured  Himself  an 
audience,  "  whether  ye  will  hear,  or 
whether  ye  will  forbear;"  for  the  accu- 
sation is  nor  uttered  till  there  have  been 
this  astounding  call  :  "  Be  astonished, 
O  ye  heavens,  at  this,  and  be  horribly 
afraid;  be  ye  very  desolate,  suit li  the 
Lord." 

But  let  us  proceed  to  the  case  which 
is  perhaps  still  more  distinctly  con- 
templated by  the  passage  before  us — 
that  of  the  abandonment  of  the  true  re- 
ligion for  a  false.  Undoubtedly  ihe 
preference  of  the  creature  to  the  <  \  -a- 
tor  as  a  source  of  happiness,  which  is 
what  we  have  just  been  considering,  is 
but  too  apt  an  illustration  of  the  for- 
saking of  the  fountain  of  living  waters, 
and  the  hewing  out  cisterns  that  .  in 
hold  no  water.  But  it  is  not  precisely 
that  with  which  the  Jews  were  then 
chargeable;  or  rather,  it  is  not  that 
with  which  they  were  then  chargeable; 
or  rather,  it  is  not  that  with  which  they 
were  then  more  immediately  charged  : 
it  is  the  changing  the  object  of  religious 
worship,  the  leaving  the  true  God,  the 
God  of  their  fathers,  for  the  idols  of  ;  he 
heathen,  which  forms,  as  you  may  easi- 
ly see  from  the  context,  the  burden  of 
the  present  accusation.  And  now  you 
are  all  alive,  as  though  this  must 
have  brought  us  to  that  point  in  our  dis- 
course, at  which  Protestanism  is  to  be 
the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  Popery 
the  broken  cistern.  You  are  impatient 
to  be  there  :  men  are  marvellously  fond 
of  hearing  their  own  system  praised,  and 
an  opposite  denounced.  But  we  are 
not  yet  at  this  point  of  discourse.  We 
have  a  few  more  general  truths  to  set- 
tle and  exhibit,  before  we  attempl  a 
contrast  between  the  Reformed  (Mi inch 
and  the  Roman.  There  are  many  ways 
wherein  the  thing  complained  of  in  the 
text  may  be  done,  though  men  continue 
within  the  pale  and  profession  of 
Protestantism. 

If  ever  God  discovered  Himself  as  a 


348 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


"  fountain  ofliving  waters,"  it  was  when, 
in  the  person  of  his  own  Divine  Son, 
He  opened  on  this  earth  a  "fountain 
for  sin  and  for  uncleanness."  Provid- 
ing, in  the  blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  an  expiation  for  human  guilt, 
and  in  the  gift  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  which 
was  one  result  of  the  Mediator's  inter- 
ference, a  renewal  of  human  nature,  He 
fulfilled  to  the  letter  the  prophetical 
promise,  "  I  will  open  rivers  in  high 
places,  and  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the 
valleys  ;  I  will  make  the  wilderness  a 
pool  of  water,  and  the  dry  land  springs 
of  water."  This  earth  was  indeed  a 
wilderness;  and  every  thing  therein 
was  dried  up  and  parched,  as  though 
there  had  passed  over  it — as  truly  there 
had — the  breath  of  its  Maker's  indig- 
nation :  but  there  came  to  it  one,  hu- 
man in  form,  but  divine  in  person  ;  and 
through  what  He  performed,  and  what 
He  endured,  living  streams  gushed  forth ; 
and  the  thirsty  might  everywhere  drink 
and  be  refreshed,  the  polluted  every- 
where wash  and  be  clean.  The  justifying 
virtue  of  the  work  of  the  Redeemer,  the 
sanctifying  of  that  of  the  Spirit — these 
include  every  thing  of  which,  as  sinful 
but  immortal  beings,  we  can  have  need  : 
by  the  former  we  may  have  title  to  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  by  the  latter 
be  made  meet  for  the  glorious  inherit- 
ance. That  God  "  hath  made  him  to  be 
sin  tor  us  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  him" — here  truly  is  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  the  Gospel;  and  whosoever, 
conscious  of  his  sinfulness,  and  intent  on 
learning  how  he  may  be  saved,  hath  had 
these  words  brought  home  to  him  "  in 
demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of 
power,"  oh,  he  can  testify  that  not  to 
the  traveller  on  the  burning  desert  is  the 
bubbling  fountain  more  eloquent  of  life, 
than  the  Gospel,  thus  gathered  into  a 
sentence,  to  the  wanderer  who  feels 
condemned  by  the  law.  Nevertheless, 
can  it  be  said  that  men  in  general  are 
ready  to  close  with  the  Gospel,  to  par- 
take of  it  as  the  parched  traveller  of  the 
spring  found  amid  the  sands  1  Alas, 
"  who  hath  believed  our  report,  and  to 
whom  hath  the  arm  of  the  Lord  been 
revealed1?"  The  invitation  is  going 
forth,  "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth, 
come  ye  to  the  waters ; "  but  it  has  to 
be  accompanied  with  the  ancient  re- 
monstrance, "  why  do  ye  spend  money 


for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  your 
labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not"?" 
Labor  is  thus  thrown  away  :  cisterns  are 
"hewn  out."  Even  where  religion  is 
not  neglected,  what  pains  are  bestowed 
on  the  making  some  system  less  distaste- 
ful to  pride,  or  more  complacent  to 
passion,  than  practical,  unadulterated 
Christianity  !  What  costly  effort  is 
(riven  to  the  compounding  the  human 
with  the  Divine,  our  own  merit  with 
that  of  Christ ;  or  to  the  preparing  our- 
selves for  the  reception  of  grace,  as 
though  it  were  not  grace  by  which,  as 
well  as  fur  which,  we  are  prepared, 
grace  which  must  fashion  the  vessel,  as 
well  as  grace  which  must  fill  it.  Truly 
the  cistern  is  "  hewn  out,"  when  the 
fountain  is  forsaken.  Let  Christ  be  un- 
to you  "  all  in  all,"  "  made  unto  you  of 
God,  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and 
sanctification,  and  redemption,"  and  the 
fountain  gives  a  river  which,  like  the 
rock  struck  in  Horeb,  never  ceaseth  to 
make  glad  the  believer.  But  turn  away, 
though  by  a  single  step,  from  Christ, 
and,  oh,  the  toil,  the  dissatisfaction,  of 
endeavoring  to  make — what  ]  "a  bro- 
ken cistern,"  "  a  cistern  that  can  hold  no 
water  " — if  creature  comforts  are  such 
cisterns  to  those  who  seek  happiness, 
creature  systems  must  be  to  those  who 
seek  immortality. 

For  what  shall  endure  the  severity 
of  God's  scrutiny,  but  that  which  is 
itself  of  God's  appointing  and  provid- 
ing 1  Subject,  so  to  speak,  one  of  your 
cisterns  to  his  inspection,  whether  re- 
pentance as  supposed  to  be  necessarily 
efficacious  to  forgiveness,  or  good  works 
considered  as  meritorious,  or  his  own 
mercy  as  too  great  to  take  vengeance — 
and  how  He  will  look  it  through  !  how 
full  of  flaws  will  it  become  !  how  utterly 
incapable  of  holding  any  thing  but  that 
wine  of  his  wrath,  of  whose  dregs  you 
read  in  the  Book  of  Psalms,  dregs 
which,  if  we  may  use  such  expression, 
may  prevent  the  wine's  escaping,  filling 
up  the  fissures,  but  only  that  you  may 
have  always  whereof  you  must  drink, 
but  never  wherewith  you  may  slake 
your  thirst.  But  shall  we  wonder  then 
that  God  denounces,  in  terms  so  re- 
proachful and  indignant,  the  leaving 
the  fountain,  and  the  hewing  out  the 
cistern  1  the  substituting  for  the  simple, 
unadulterated  Gospel  of  Christ,  any  of 
those  devices  of  reason,  or  creations  of 


BROKEN   CISTERNS. 


319 


pride,  to  which  some  would  have  re- 
course for  motive  to  duty,  strength  in 
trial,  comfort  in  sorrow,  hope  in  death  1 
Shall  we  wonder,  that  as  if,  where  such 
a  thing  could  he  done,  it  were  idle  to 
expect  that  its  enormity  should  be  felt, 
He  appeals,  not  to  earth,  hut  to  heaven, 
for  an  audience  1  appeals,  and  in  what 
terms?  "  Be  horribly  afraid,  ye  hea- 
vens ;  be  ye  very  desolate."  One  is 
staggered  by  such  expressions — the  hea- 
vens called  on  to  be  "  very  desolate," 
as  if  they  were  likely  to  be  unpeopled, 
kept  empty,  through  this  hewing  out  of 
broken  cisterns.  The  broken  cistern 
below  is  the  unfilled  mansion  above. 
Oh,  if  ye  would  do  your  part  towards 
the  occupancy  of  Heaven,  if  ye  would 
be  there  yourselves,  and  so  rather  pre- 
vent vacancy,  or  leave  not  vacancy  to 
be  filled  by  such  as  were  not  "  children 
of  the  kingdom,"  take  heed  that  ye 
suffer  not  yourselves  to  be  drawn  aside 
from  Christ;  admit  no  system  of  theo- 
logy of  which  Christ,  Christ  crucified, 
Christ  glorified,  is  not  the  Alpha  and 
the  Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  end. 
And  let  it  warn  you  of  the  peril  of 
missing  Heaven — not  through  idleness, 
not  through  indifference  ;  this  is  not  the 
case  contemplated,  the  idle  man  is  not  in 
the  quarry,  "  hewing  out  the  cistern" — 
Dut  through  misapplied  energy,  through 
misdirected  endeavor — let  it  warn  you 
of  the  peril  of  this,  that  the  heavens  are 
called  on  to  be  "  very  desolate" — ay, 
"  very  desolate  ;"  interpret  it  how  you 
will,  whether  as  emptying  themselves 
of  their  shining  hosts  to  behold  .  the 
most  astounding  and  afflicting  of  spec- 
tacles, or  as  likely  to  remain  unoccupied 
through  so  sad  and  fatal  an  apostasy — 
the  heavens  are  called  on  to  be  "  very 
desolate,"  when  God's  people  are  to  be 
charged  with  having  forsaken  the  foun- 
tain of  living  waters,  and  hewn  out  to 
themselves  cisterns  that  can  hold  no 
water. 

Now  this  naturally  brings  us  to  that 
particular  application  of  the  text  which 
seems  required  by  the  present  anniver- 
sary. If  the  thing  generally  denounced 
in  the  passage  before  us  be  the  aban- 
donment of  the  true  religion,  for  one 
either  wholly  false,  or  with  admixtures 
of  error,  the  denunciation  must  include 
the  case  of  the  forsaking  the  communion 
of  a  pure,  Apostolical,  Church,  for  that 
of  a  corrupt  and  idolatrous.    But  before 


such  a  caso  can  he  admitted  to  be  that 
of  leaving  the  Reformed  Church,  and 
joining  the  Roman,  it  will  justly  be 
required  that  the  doctrines  of  the  two 
Churches  beset  in  opposition,  or  con- 
trast, that  so  it  may  be  seen  whether  in 
the  one  there  be  free  access  to  the 
fountain  of  living  waters,  whilst  in  the 
other  men  are  left  to  the  hewing  nut 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water. 
We  cannot  expect,  within  such  limits 
as  are  now  left  us,  to  draw  out  this 
contrast  in  all  its  extent  and  variety. 
But  we  may  seize  on  leading  facts,  on 
prominent  doctrines  ;  and  placing  these 
the  one  against  the  other,  do  enough  to 
the  vindicating  what  we  claim  for  Pro- 
testantism, and  to  the  proving  what  we 
charge  upon  Popery. 

We  pray  you  at  once,  and  at  the 
outset,  to  observe  that  we  use  the  term 
Protestantism  as  defining  in  one  great 
respect  the  character  of  the  Anglican 
Church.  And  I  will  not  shrink  from 
the  term  Protestant,  as  though  I  thought 
it  unbecoming  a  branch  of  Christ's 
"  holy  Catholic  Church."  Not  that 
I  glory  in  belonging  to  a  protesting 
Church;  I  grieve  too  deeply  that  there 
should  be  errors,  gross,  fatal,  errors, 
against  which  to  protest.  I  glory  in 
belonging  to  an  Apostolic  Church  ;  I 
lament  that  such  a  Church  is  compelled 
to  be  protestant;  but  we  cannot,  of 
ourselves,  part  with  our  protesting  char-, 
acter;  the  Roman  Church  must  take 
that  from  us,  and  how]  by  violence] 
God  helping,  we  will  imitate  our  fathers, 
and  deliver  our  protest  in  the  face  of 
persecution  and  death.  By  our  return- 
ing into  communion  with  the  Roman 
Church,  the  Roman  Church  as  it  is? 
No,  no  :  1  trust  we  may  say,  we  "  have 
not  so  learned  Christ."  We  will  cease 
to  be  Protestants,  when  the  Roman 
Church  renounces  the  abominations 
against  which  we  protest;  till  then,  we 
must  keep  the  name,  we  must  keep  the 
thing.  As  to  that  of  which  one  has 
beard,  of  which  one  has  read,  unpro- 
testantizing  the  Church,  God  in  his 
mercy  forbid  this:  we  will  pray,  we 
will  labor,  to  reform  the  Roman  com- 
munion ;  better  die  than  consent  to  Ro- 
manize the  Reformed. 

But  if  we  are,  if  we  must  be,  a  pro- 
testing Church,  let  us  understand  tho- 
roughly what  it  is  against  which  we 
protest.     We   protest,    not   against  the 


350 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


Roman  Church,  as  though  it  were  not, 
equally  with  our  own,  Apostolic  in 
constitution,  a  branch  of  that  Catholic 
Church  in  whose  existence  we  profess 
belief  whenever  we  repeat  the  creed. 
But  we  protest  against  numerous  and 
grievous  corruptions  of  primitive  Chris- 
tianity, which  the  Roman  Church  re- 
tains, and  of  which,  through  the  blessing 
of  God  on  the  labors  of  confessors  and 
martyrs,  our  own  Church  was  enabled 
to  lid  herself  at  the  Reformation.  We 
protest  against  the  doctrine  of  the  pope's 
infallibility  :  unwarranted  by  Scripture, 
disproved  by  facts,  it  offers  the  Divine 
sanction  to  every  error  which  an  igno- 
rant man  may  adopt,  and  to  every 
practice  which  a  vicious  may  enjoin. 
We  protest  against  what  we  are  forced 
to  call  the  idolatry  of  the  Papists; 
idolatry  is  the  great  plague-spot  of 
Romanism  :  let  them  explain,  let  them 
excuse,  let  them  extenuate,  how  they 
will,  their  gestures,  their  hymns,  their 
prayers,  are  witnesses  that  they  offer  to 
the  creature  the  worship  which  is  due 
only  to  the  Creator.  We  protest  against 
the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation,  that 
the  bread  and  wine  in  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per are  actually  turned  into  Christ's 
flesh  and  blood  :  if  it  were  not  contra- 
dicted by  our  senses,  it  is  fatal  to  the 
Gospel  ;  for,  making  Christ's  body  in- 
finite and  omnipresent,  it  interferes  with 
the  truth  of  our  Saviour's  human  nature. 
We  protest  against  what  is  called  the 
sacrifice  of  the  mass;  for  we  hold  that 
Christ  was  offered  once  for  all,  and  that 
it  is  impious  to  speak  of  repeating  the 
oblation.  We  protest  against  the  Ro- 
mish doctrine  of  justification.  The  Pa- 
pists mix  up  human  merits  with  Christ's; 
they  draw  distinctions  between  venial 
and  mortal  sins  ;  they  introduce  a  whole 
train  of  subordinate  mediators;  and 
thus  have  so  darkened  the  Gospel  with 
fables  and  inventions,  and  substituted 
for  the  simple  mode  of  acceptance  by 
faith  in  the  Redeemer,  a  complicated 
of  their  own,  that,  if  they  do  not  shut 
heaven  against  those  who  would  enter, 
it  is  wondrous  how  any  find  the  way  of 
admission.  We  protest  against  the  doc- 
trine of  purgatory;  we  protest  against 
multiplied  sacraments;  against  the  with- 
holding the  cup  from  the  laity  ;  against 
keeping  the  Bible  from  the  common 
people  ;  against  praying  in  an  unknown  , 
tongue:    against  the  tyrannies  and  in-, 


decencies  of  the  confessional.  We  pro 
test  against  all  these  ;  though  there  may 
not  be  in  all  the  same  amount  of  error, 
there  is  in  all  much  that  is  opposed  to 
pure  Christianity,  and  much  that,  is  likely 
to  place  the  soul  in  peril.  And  even 
this  rapid  enumeration  of  subjects  of 
protest  may  suffice  to, prove  of  the  Re- 
formed Church,  that  it  has  free  access 
"  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters," 
whilst  the  Roman  is  hewing  out  •'  bro- 
ken cisterns  that  can  hold  no  water." 
The  Bible,  translated  with  all  possible 
care,  and  given  to  every  man  to  read, 
study,  and  pray  over  for  himself;  the 
Gospel,  proclaimed  in  its  simplicity; 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  presented  as  the 
alone  procuring  cause  of  our  reconcilia- 
tion ;  faith,  the  instrument  of  justifica- 
tion; holiness,  the  necessary  produce 
of  faith ;  unmutilated  sacraments;  the 
ordinances  of  religion  all  administered 
in  the  vulgar  tongue  ;  having  these  pri- 
vileges, hearing  these  truths,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Reformed  Church,  we  are 
bold  to  declare,  have  nothing  to  impede, 
but  every  thing  to  facilitate,  their  taking 
of  those  waters,  whereof  whosoever 
drinketh,  he  shall  not  taste  death.  But 
look  on  the  other  side  of  the  picture  ; — 
the  Bible  jealously  guarded,  only  doled 
out  bit  by  bit,  at  the  will,  and  with  the 
interpretation,  of  an  interested  priest- 
hood; no  common  prayer,  or  public 
worship,  properly  so  called,  for  that  is 
not  common  prayer  in  which  the  people 
cannot  join;  one-half  of  the  blessed 
Communion  denied  to  the  people,  so 
that  it  is  doubtful,  to  say  the  least, 
whether  they  receive  the  Holy  Sacra- 
ment ;  the  "  one  Mediator  between  God 
and  man"  kept  at  such  a  distance,  and 
made  so  difficult  of  approach,  that  you 
can  only  reach  Him  through  the  inter- 
cession, of  angels  and  saints;  the  pardon 
of  sin  so  involved  in  difficulties,  and 
complicated  with  subtleties,  that  the 
penitent  must  be  tortured  with  doubts 
whilst  he  lives,  and  hope,  at  best,  foi 
mitigated  punishment  when  he  dies ; 
fastings,  scourgings,  watchings,  and 
multiplied  austerities,  imposed  as  a 
meritorious  and  expiatory  endurance, 
and  not  as  a  merely  wholesome  and  sub- 
jugatory  discipline, — oh  !  is  this  what 
they  would  give  us  as  the  birthright, 
the  inheritance  of  the  children  of  Godj 
What  do  all  these  make  up,  if  not  a 
system  of  broken  cisterns  ]    What  water 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


351 


can  these  hold  for  a  thirsty  soul  1  And, 
though  broken,  with  what  infinite  pains 
have  these  cisterns  been  constructed  ! 
How  true  is  it  that  they  have  been 
"  hewn  out."  Truth  was  not  corrupted 
in  a  single  day,  nor  by  a  single  act,  nor 
by  a  single  agent.  It  took  centures  to 
build  up  this  fatal  system.  The  angel 
of  darkness  labored  at  it,  but  commonly 
under  the  disguise  of  an  angel  of  light. 
Men  of  high  but  misdirected  intellect; 
reason,  in  her  unchasteued  boldness; 
pride,  in  its  unchecked  presumption  ; 
ambition,  that  spurned  all  restraint  ; 
power,  that  would  brook  no  control; 
these  all  gave  themselves  to  the  colos- 
sal work:  and  when  Christianity  came 
forth,  beaten,  darkened,  ground,  muti- 
lated into  Popery,  oh,  it  was  throned  on 
high  places,  and  it  was  shrined  beneath 
magnificent  domes,  and  it  glittered  with 
splendor;  but  it  was  just  the  simple 
made  intricate  at  incalculable  cost,  and 
the  precious  which  infinite  pains  had 
been  taken  to  spoil. 

The  cisterns  were  "hewn  out;"  the 
noble  block,  which  had  only  to  be  touch- 
ed by  the  rod  of  the  believer,  and  oh  !  how 
the  living  waters  leaped  from  it,  was 
laboriously  chiselled  into  petty  recepta- 
cles :  fragments  were  broken  off,  and 
substituted  for  the  whole;  the  chalice 
and  the  cup,  wrought  by  human  skill,  if 
of  Divine  material,  elaborated  till  it  was 
scarce  possible  to  recognize  the  orignal 
substance,  distorted  so  studiously  in 
form  that  the  thirsty  lip  could  hardly 
find  where  to  place  itself,  and  some  flaw 
so  ingeniously  concealed,  that,  while  the 
water  oozed  away,  the  vessel  still  seem- 
ed entire, — ah  !  this  was  Popery,  this 
is  Popery.  Miserable  comforters,  bro- 
ken cisterns  !  Is  this  what  we  are  to 
have  in  place  of  the  exulting,  the 
abounding,  river  which  makes  glad  our 
Jerusalem,  "  There  is  therefore  now  no 
condemnation  to  them  that  are  in  Christ 
Jesus,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but 
after  the  Spirit?"  Men  and  brethren, 
compare  the  systems,  compare  the 
Churches,  compare  them  in  the  light  of 
Holy  Scripture,  and  of  Catholic  anti- 
quity, and  you  shall  find  rio  apter  saying, 
than  that,  in  the  Reformed  Church, 
Christianity  gushes  from  the  fountain  ; 
in  the  Roman,  it  is  poured  into  broken 
cisterns. 

And  shall  we  leave  the  fountain  for 
the   cistern  ]     Indeed    there  are    some 


j  who  would  pcisu;,,!,.  ,,s  even  to  thi»: 
and  there  are  others  who  would  disguise 
or  smooth  away  the  differences  between 

our  own  Chinch  and  the  Roman,  living 
to  persuade  us  thai  it  is  liii  I . -  more  than 
prejudice  which  prevents  om  being  at 
peace.  Cod  forbid  thai  we  should 
hearken  to  any  such  deceivers.  The 
worst  thing  done  in  these  days  of  theo- 
logical bitterness  and  strife  is, that  sound 
Church  principles  are  being  brought 
into  disrepute  by  their  advocate  . 
though  in  upholding  them  it  were  need- 
ful either  to  put  contempt  on  the  Refor- 
mation, or  to  pay  compliments  to 
Romanism.  Perish  the  principles,  if 
principles  they  could  be  called,  which 
are  to  be  defended  by  decrying  those 
who  reformed  our  Church,  and  flatter- 
ing those  who  corrupted  it.  But  this  is 
not  sound,  this  is  not  consistent,  this  is 
not  high  Churchmanship.  The  true 
Churchman  feels  that  there  is  a  vast 
gulph  between  him  and  the  Papist — I 
do  not  say  an  impassable  gulph;  but 
the  Papist  must  come  over  to  him  ;  he 
must  not  take  a  step  towards  the  Papist. ; 
the  Churchman  made  the  gulph  by  put- 
ting from  him  certain  errors  and  cor- 
ruptions; and  the  Papist  must  destroy 
the  gulph  by  putting  them  from  him  too. 
And  if,  in  spite  of  what  we  know  Popery 
to  have  been,  and  of  what  we  know  it 
to  be,  we  would  indulge  any  thought  of 
reunion  with  the  Roman  Church,  ex- 
cept through  that  Church's  rejecting 
what  we  rejected  when  we  separated 
from  it — then  might  it  be  vain  to  look 
for  audience  amongst  ourselves  as  the 
projected  apostasy  were  denounced,  so 
besotted  must  we  be,  so  bent  on  our 
own  undoing.  But  there  shall  not  be 
wanting  listeners,  amazed  and  frighten- 
ed listeners  :  the  very  heavens,  that  have 
gathered  to  themselves  the •"  noble  com- 
pany of  martyrs,"  shall  be  astonished, 
and  horribly  afraid,  and  very  desolate, 
and  all  because  the  purposed  crime  in  ay 
justly  be  described  as  the  forsaking  the 
fountain  of  living  waters  for  '-broken 
cisterns  that  can  hold  no  water." 

And  now  one  brief  word  in  conclu- 
sion with  regard  to  the  present  anniver- 
sary. We  cannot  consider  the  ( inn- 
powder  plot,  merely  as  having  been  the 
treasonable  scheme  of  a  disaffected  few, 
though  we  know,  from  historical  docu- 
ments, that  not  m»ie  than  eighty  persons 
were  in  any  degree    privy   to   it.      The 


352 


BROKEN  CISTERNS. 


great  thing  to  be  observed  is,  that  un- 
doubtedly the  object  of  this  plot  was  the 
re-establishment  of  Popery.  The  chief 
leaders,  such  as  Catesby  and  Piercy, 
were  iritated  at  finding  that  Roman 
Catholics  were  not  treated  with  greater 
indulgence  by  James  I.,  from  whom,  as 
the  descendant  of  the  Scottish  Mary, 
they  had  expected  such  concessions  as 
they  had  not  obtained  from  his  prede- 
cessor Elizabeth.  When  they  found 
these  expectations  disappointed,  they 
resolved  on  an  act  which  should  not 
only  be  one  of  terrible  vengeance,  but 
which,  by  removing  the  chief  foes  to 
their  religion,  should  make  way  for  its 
speedy  and  triumphant  re-establishment. 
And  in  all  human  probability  Protes- 
tanism  would  have  been  buried  with 
our  princes  and  nobles  beneath  the  ruins 
of  the  parliament-house,  had  the  daring 
incendiary  completed  his  work — even 
as  it  would  have  lost  its  ascendan- 
cy had  not  William  III.  taken  the  scep- 
tre from  his  father-in-law's  hand.  There- 
fore should  we  join  heartily  in  the 
thanksgiving  of  the  day,  and  consider 
that  the  commemorated  events  are  such 
as  should  be  held  in  lasting  and  grateful 
remembrance.  For  we  are  not  yet,  we 
trust,  come  as  a  nation  to  the  point  at 
which  sight  is  lost  of  the  worth  of  the 
Reformation.  We  are  not  yet  prepared 
to  believe  that  it  was  for  trivial  and 
speculative  points  that  our  fathers  gave 
themselves  readily  to  the  rack  and  the 
stake.  We  may  have  forgotten  our 
privileges  in  the  day  of  our  security  ; 
but  let  Protestanism  be  assailed,  whe- 
ther from  without  or  from  within — and 
I  am  not  the  one  to  deny,  however  to 
deplore,  that  the  assault  may  be  from 
within  as  well  as  from  without — and  1 
think,  and  I  trust,  that  something  of  the 
same  spirit  will  be  roused  in  the  land 
as  though  an  invader's  foot  were  on  its 
shore,  or  a  traitor  in  its  councils. 

But  let  an  anniversary  such  as  this 
set  each  of  us  to  the  diligently  examin- 
ing what  Protestantism  is,  that  we  may 
know  our  advantages,  the  responsibilities 
which  they  entail,  and  the  duties  which 
they  iuvolve.  We  have  the  fountain  of 
living  waters.  It  is  well  that  we  care- 
fully guard  it :  but  do  we  also  eagerly 


drink  of  it  1  We  are  not  forced  to  seek 
water  from  broken  cisterns.  It  is  well 
that  we  expose  the  worthlessness  of 
these  cisterns;  but  do  we  remember 
that  which  St.  Paul  says  to  the  Hebrews, 
"  Therefore  we  ought  to  give  the  more 
earnest  heed  to  the  things  which  we  have 
heard,  lest  at  any  time  we  should  let 
them  slip?"  the  marginal  reading  is, 
"  lest  at  any  time  we  should  let  them  run 
out"  as  leaking  vessels.  We  ourselves 
may  be  the  broken  cisterns,  receiving 
grace  but  only  to  lose  it.  Let  us  look 
to  it  then,  that  we  be  earnest,  decided, 
consistent  Protestants.  Put  such  Pro- 
testantism is  for  exhibition  in  the  life, 
rather  than  for  declamation  on  the  plat- 
form. It  is  a  real  tract  for  the  times, 
"  Known  and  read  of  all  men."  Pro- 
founder  humility,  heartier  charity,  more 
expansive  benevolence,  a  more  devoted 
consecration  to  the  service  of  God — it 
is  by  these  that  Protestantism  will  be 
truly  upheld,  preserved  to  ourselves, 
transmitted  to  our  children.  Popery  is 
not  to  be  written  down  ;  it  is  to  be  lived 
down  :  and  if  we  are  to  lose  the  advan- 
tages of  the  Reformation  of  the  nation;! 
Church,  it  will  be  mainly  through  the 
want  of  reformation  in  the  nation;]  1 
character.  Each,  then,  as  he  strives  to 
live  more  "  holily,  justly,  and  unblame- 
ably,"  in  the  world,  is  doing  his  part 
towards  preserving  to  his  country  that 
Protestantism  which,  under  God,  is  ver- 
ily its  shield,  its  palladium.  Each,  on 
the  other  hand,  as  he  suffers  himself  to 
be  inflamed  with  evil  passions,  cherish- 
ing, or  not  striving  to  quench,  the  fires 
of  lust,  is,  in  his  measure,  the  conspira- 
tor who  would  ignite  a  train  charged 
with  destruction  to  our  laws,  our  liber- 
ties, our  religion.  Depart,  then,  resolv- 
ing, in  the  strength  of  the  living  God,  to 
be  more  thorough  Christians  than  you 
have  hitherto  been.  This  is  the  great 
practical  use  to  be  made  of  such  a  com- 
memoration as  the  present.  There  is  a 
Gunpowder  plot  to  be  detected  and  de- 
feated :  you  must  detect  it  by  searching 
the  dark  recesses  of  the  heart ;  you 
must  defeat  it  by  letting  your  light 
shine  more  brightly  than  ever  before 
men. 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PIIANTOM. 


SERMON   XII.* 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


"*  And  a  vision  appeared  to  Paul  in  the  ni?ht;  There  stood  a  man  of  Macedonia,  and  prayed  him,  savin?.  Pome  over 
into  Macedonia,  and  help  us.  Aud  after  he  had  seen  the  vision,  immediately  we  endeavored  to  so  Into  Macedonia, 
assuredly  gathering  that  the  Lord  had  called  us  for  to  preach  the  Gospel  unto  them." — Acts  xvi.  t),  10. 


The  Apostles,  and  first  preachers  of 
Christianity,  differed  greatly  from  our- 
selves, in  that  they  were  endowed  with 
extraordinary  gifts,  and  miraculous  pow- 
ers. But  it  is  distinctly  to  he  observed, 
that  they  were  not,  on  this  account,  ex- 
empt from  the  necessity  of  exercising 
faith.  It  might  have  been  thought,  that, 
possessed  as  they  were  of  superhuman 
might,  and  privileged  with  immediate 
revelations  of  the  will  of  God,  there 
would  have  been,  in  their  case,  but  little 
opportunity  or  demand  for  that  trust, 
or  dependence,  which  is  among  the 
chief  things  required  from  ourselves. 
But  God  so  ordered  his  dealings  with 
them,  that,  notwithstanding  their  won- 
drous endowments,  they  appear  to  have 
had  the  same  life  to  lead  as  any  one  of 
us,  who,  always  in  weakness,  and  often 
in  darkness,  must  labor  at  duty,  and 
submit  to  trial.  That  the  Apostles  were 
able  to  work  miracles,  did  not  secure 
to  them  the  supply  even  of  their  daily 
wants.  St.  Paul,  in  reckoning  up  to 
the  Corinthians  his  multiplied  enduran- 
ces in  the  cause  of  the  Gospel,  enumer- 
ates "  hunger,  and  thirst,  and  fastings  ;" 
and  you  will  all  remember  how  this 
Apostle,  anxious  to  prevent  his  being 
burdensome  to  the  churches  which  he 
had  planted,  wrought  at  the  business  of 
a  tentmaker,  and  thus  earned  what  was 
necessary  for  his  subsistence.  It  was  a 
strange,  but  an  instructive,  spectacle, 
that  of  a  man  who  could  heal  the  sick, 
and  raise  the  dead,  obliged  to  labor, 
like  a  common  artizan,  in  order  to  the 


*  Preached  at  York  on  behalf  of  the  Society 
for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge 

vol.  II.  45 


procuring  a  meal.  Would  not  the  en- 
ergy, which  sufficed  for  so  many  and 
greater  wonders,  have  availed  to  the 
obtaining,  without  all  this  drudgery,  the 
supply  of  every-day  wants  1  But  God , 
we  may  believe,  in  order  to  keep  his 
servant  dependent  on  himself,  would 
not  allow  him  to  exercise,  on  his  own 
behalf,  the  powers  which  were  so 
mighty  in  subjugating  the  world  ;  but, 
whilst  He  enabled  him  to  shake  the 
vast  fabric  of  heathenism'  and  placed, 
in  a  certain  sense,  all  the  elements  of 
nature  under  his  control,  obliged  him 
to  be  industrious,  in  order  to  the  ward- 
ing off"  starvation,  and  required  from  him 
all  that  diligent  and  faithful  use  of  in- 
stituted means,  which  is  required  from 
the  lowest  and  weakest  of  his  people. 

Then,  again,  it  is  true  that  Apostles 
had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  that,  priv- 
ileged with  immediate  revelation,  they 
knew  far  more  than  common  men  of 
the  will  and  purposes  of  the  Almighty. 
But  it  is  very  observable,  that  this,  their 
insight  into  futurity  was  no  more  allow- 
ed than  their  power  of  working  miracles, 
to  destroy,  or  even  to  diminish,  the  ne- 
cessity for  the  exertion  of  faith  in  regaid 
of  themselves.  You  might  have  thought 
that  men,  gifted  with  the  faculty  of  an- 
ticipating events,  and  determining  long 
beforehand  what  God  had  appointed  to 
take  place,  would  never  have  been  at 
any  loss  with  regard  to  their  own  plans, 
but  would  have  been  saved  all  that 
doubt  and  perplexity  in  which  we  our- 
selves are  necessarily  involved,  from  not 
knowing  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 
Yet  this  was  far  from  being  the  case. 
The  Apostles  appear  to  have  had  just 


354 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


cur  trials  of  faith  ;  they  were  called 
upon  for  the  same  patient  waiting  on 
God,  the  same  watching  the  leadings  of 
his  Providence,  the  same  studying  the 
minute  indications  of  his  will.  Able  to 
pierce  futurity,  and  discern  "  the  man 
of  sin,"  opposing  and  exalting  himself 
above  all  that  is  called  God,  St.  Paul 
was  nevertheless  unable  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  a  journey,  with  any  cer- 
tainty that  he  should  be  allowed  to 
accomplish  it.  Hear  how  he  speaks  to 
the  Thessalonians  :  "  Therefore  we 
would  have  come  unto  you,  even  I  Paul, 
once  and  again ;  but  Satan  hindered 
us."  He  had  often,  you  see,  desired 
and  planned  a  visit  to  Thessalonica ; 
but,  as  often,  some  obstacle  had  arisen, 
which  had  been  as,  completely  unfore- 
seen by  him  as  though  the  gift  of  proph- 
ecy had  in  no  degree  been  possessed. 
Thus,  as  with  the  gift  of  miracles,  sn 
with  that  of  prophecy,  God  allowed 
nothing  to  interfere  with  simple,  prayer- 
ful,  dependence  upon  Himself.  He 
brought  it  to  pass  that  those  whom  He 
enabled  to  marshal  before  them  the 
august  and  awful  occurrences  of  distant 
centuries,  should,  in  their  private  capa- 
city, be  as  thoroughly  obliged  to  the 
"  walking  by  faith,  not  by  sight,"  as 
any  one  of  ourselves  from  whom  the 
future  veils  all  its  secrets,  except  those 
which  prophets  have  been  commissioned 
to  announce. 

If  you  look  at  the  verses  which  im- 
mediately precede  our  text,  you  will 
find  abundant  evidence  that  St.  Paul 
and  his  companions  were  required,  like 
ourselves,  to  go  forward  in  faith,  unin- 
formed as  to  the  precise  course  which 
God  would  have  them  take,  but  acting 
on  the  assurance  that  He  directs  the 
steps  of  all  such  as  commit  themselves 
to  his  guidance.  In  the  sixth  verse  you 
read,  "Now  when  they  had  gone 
throughout  Phrygia  and  the  region  of 
Galatia,  and  were  forbidden  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  preach  the  word  in  Asia." 
Their  intention  had  evidently  been  "  to 
preach  the  word  in  Asia  ;"  but  they 
were  not  allowed  to  carry  their  intention 
into  effect ;  God  interfered  to  prevent 
it :  St.  Paul  had,  no  doubt,  prayed  to 
be  directed  aright ;  but  to  keep  faith  in 
exercise,  he  was  permitted,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  determine  wrong.  Then  in 
the  next  verse  you  read,  "  After  they 
were   come  to  Mysia  they  assayed  to 


go  into  Bithynia  :  but  the  Spirit  suffered 
them  not."  Still,  you  see,  they  are 
only  as  men  feeling  their  way  :  it  seemed 
to  them,  that  Asia  being  closed,  Bithynia 
presented  the  most  desirable  field  of 
labor,  and  accordingly  they  took  mea- 
sures for  entering  that  province.  But 
again  they  were  proved  wrong :  it  was 
not  to  Bithynia  that  God  meant  them 
to  turn  ;  and  they  are  still  in  doubt  as 
to  what  course  to  pursue.  At  last, 
there  is  granted  unto  Paul  the  vision 
recorded  in  our  text,  from  which  he  is 
enabled  assuredly  to  gather  that  the 
Lord  designed  him  to  preach  in  Mace- 
donia. Yet,  what  a  roundabout  method 
this  seems  of  communicating  informa- 
tion :  what  delay,  what  loss  of  time  ! 
Why  was  not  the  Apostle,  in  the  first 
instance,  explicitly  told  what  the  will, 
of  God  was,  in  place  of  being  left  to 
make  useless  plans  as  to  Asia  and  Bithy- 
nia 1  and  why,  at  last,  was  he  only 
taught  through  the  medium  of  a  vision, 
which  might  have  admitted  of  diverse 
interpretations,  and  in  regard  of  which 
there  might  even  have  been  doubt 
whether  it  was  indeed  to  be  received 
as  a  communication  from  God  ]  We 
will  not  say  that  such  questions  can  be 
satisfactorily  answered ;  we  will  not 
even  say  that  they  can  with  propriety 
be  put.  But  at  least  we  may  gather  a 
lesson  for  ourselves  from  what  is  thus 
recorded  of  St.  Paul.  We  see  that 
even  St.  Paul  was  thrown  upon  his 
faith  ;  that  he  had  to  find  out  the  will 
of  God  by  successive  experiments  ;  that 
the  leadings  of  God's  providence,  in 
regard  even  of  this  his  favored  and  ex- 
emplary servant,  were  obscure  and 
circuitous ;  and  that,  so  far  from  the 
Apostle  being  allowed  to  ascertain  long 
beforehand  how  to  shape  his  course,  he 
had  to  grope  his  way  step  by  step, 
doubtful  whether  he  was  to  turn  to  the 
north  or  to  the  south,  and  obliged  to 
make  the  attempt,  in  order  to  the  deter- 
mining whether  it  were  what  God  ap- 
proved. Shall  we  then  wonder,  or  shall 
we  repine,  if  God  demand  from  us  the 
exercise  of  faith,  if  He  show  us  not,  at 
once,  and  by  any  unquestionable  mani- 
festation, what  his  will  concerning  us 
may  be,  but  require  from  us  the  patient 
waiting  upon  Him,  and  exercise  us  by 
the  frequent  frustration  of  our  plans  1 

We   hear  much  of  the   leadings    of 
God's  providence;    and  it  is  our  busi 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


355 


ness,  as  Christians,  to  be  always  on  the 
watch  for  these  leadings;   assured  that, 
as  God  taught  his  people  of  old,  by  the 
cloud  upon  the  tabernacle,  when  they 
were  to  rest,  and  when  to  set  forward, 
He    will    not    fail    now   to   Vouchsafe 
guidance    to    those,   who,    in    all    their 
ways,  acknowledge  Him,  and  lean  not 
to  their  own  understandings.     But  we 
are  not  to  expect  that  the  leadings  of 
providence  will  be  always,  or  even  often, 
very  marked  and  distinct.     This  would 
be  to  change  the  character  of  the  dis- 
pensation  beneath  which  we  live  ;   for 
if  the  pillar  of  fire  and  of  cloud  went 
visibly  before  us,  it  would  be  by  sight, 
and  no  longer  by  faith,  that  Christians 
were   required    to    walk.     Let   us    not 
hastily  conclude  that  God's  providence 
marks  out  for  us  this  or  that  course  ;  and 
let  us  be  specially  circumspect,  when 
the  path,  which  appears  thus  prescribed, 
happens  to  be  one  which  agrees  with 
our  own  wishes.     It  is  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world  to  imagine  the  leadings  of 
providence,  where  we  have  already  got 
the  leadings   of  inclination.     And   we 
may  learn  from  the  instance  of  St.  Paul, 
that,  even  where  there  is  prayerfulness, 
and  the  meek  wish  of  entire  submission, 
it  may   be   only   by    dark    intimations, 
and  after  many  frustrations,  that  God's 
providence  will  mark   out  our  course. 
Oh,  who  shall  marvel  that  he  has  not 
direct  and  immediate  answers  to  prayer, 
that    faith    is    kept  in  exercise    by  the 
scantiness,  so  to  speak,  of  the  guidance 
vouchsafed,  that  he  is  often  able  only  to 
conjecture  God's  will,  and  must  take  a 
step  in  doubt  as  to  the  lightness  of  the 
course — who,  we  say,  shall   marvel  at 
this,  if  he  duly  remember  that  even  St. 
Paul,  when  engaged  in  the  high  work 
of  evangelizing  the  earth,  was  suffered 
to  plan  the  going  into  Asia,  but   pre- 
vented by  God,  and  then  to  essay  the 
going  into  Bithynia,  but  once  more  pre- 
vented  ;   and  that,  at  last,  he  was  only 
guided  into  Macedonia,  by  seeing  a  dim 
figure  at  his  bedside,  in  the  stillness  of 
night,   which   pronounced   the  dubious 
words,  "  Come  over,  and  help  us  1 " 

But  we  would  now  lead  you  along  a 
wholly  different  train  of  thought :  we 
will  simply  suppose  that  information  is 
given  to  St.  Paul  in  and  through  a  vision 
of  the  night,  when  sleep  had  fallen  up- 
on him ;  and  we  will  see  whether  this 
fact   is   not   fraught    with    instruction. 


The  case  of  St.  Paul  is  not  indeed  pe- 
culiar; fox  you  must  all  remember  how 
common  it  was,  ia  earlier  days.forGod 

to  communicate  with  his  servants  as  they 
lay  asleep  ;  what  frequeni  use  w 
of  dreams  and  visions,  when  intimations 
were  to  be  given  of  the  Divine  will  and 

purposes.     We   cat I    bui   think   that 

there  is  something  to  be  learnt  from  this 
which  is  generally  overlooked  ;  and  wo 
will  therefore  engage  your  attention  for 
a  while  with  a  few  remarks,  ami  infer- 
ences, which  may  not  perhaps  have  oc- 
curred to  yourselves. 

There  is  not  one  of  you  who  does  not. 
consider  that  sleep  is  a  sort  of  image  of 
death.     There  is  so  evident  a    resem- 
blance between    the    sleeping   and    the 
dead — sleep,   like    death,    withdrawing 
us  from  the  visible  world,  suspending 
our  faculties,  closing  our  senses,  and  in- 
capacitating us  for  taking   pari  in  what 
is     passing     around — that    the     dullest 
imagination  might  invent  the  simile  for 
itself,  and  would  never  have  to  wait  till 
it    found    it   among    the   metaphors  of 
poetry.      The    heathen,   dark    as    were 
their  notions  of  another  state  of  being, 
spake  of  death  as  a  sleep  ;   and   Scrip- 
ture, from  the  very  first,  made  use  of  the 
figure — kings  and  patriarchs,  when  they 
died,    were    said    to    have    "slept  with 
their  fathers  ;  "   in  the  New  Testament., 
the    same    imagery    is    retained:    "the 
damsel  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth,"  was 
the  expression  of  our  Lord  in  regard  of 
the  daughter  of  the  ruler  of  the  syna- 
gogue;   and  St.   Paul,  when   he  would 
comfort    Christians    sorrowing    for    the 
dead,  reminds  them,   that   "them   also 
which   sleep  in   Jesus  will   God    bring 
with  him."     But  we  need  not  be  at  any 
pains  to  prove  to  you  either  the  fitness 
or  the  frequency  of  the  metaphor  by 
which  death  is  likened  unto  sleep.     You 
will  all  readily  assent  to  the  fitness,  and 
your  own  memories  will  furnish  proofs 
of  the  frequency.     Our  business  is  now 
with  the  pointing  out,  that  the  metaphor 
has  not  been  carried  to  its  proper  extent, 
and  that  therefore  men  have  drawn  from 
it  but  a  small  portion  of  the  truth  which 
it  is  intended  to  convey.     I  do  indeed 
think  that  God   designed  sleep  as  the 
standing  image  of  death,  so  that  men 
might  continually  be  reminded,  by  the 
lying  down  in  their  beds,  of  the  approach 
of  a^ time  when  they  must  lie  down  in 
their  craves.     But  I  think  slso  that  Cud 


356 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


hereby  meant  to  fix  their  thoughts,  riot 
only  on  their  dying,  but  on  their  rising 
from  the  dead.  Why,  when  every 
morning  calls  us  from  our  beds,  strung 
with  new  energy,  and,  as  it  were,  fresh- 
ened into  a  new  life — why  are  we  to 
speak  of  sleep,  as  though  it  imaged  our 
death,  but  not  also  our  resurrection  ] 
The  metaphor  is  evidently  as  accurate 
in  the  one  respect  as  in  the  other.  And 
I  can  hardly  doubt,  that,  as  there  are 
many  processes  in  nature  which  suggest 
to  the  thoughtful  inquirer  the  great 
change  which  is  to  pass  over  us,  and 
our  reappearance  on  a  higher  stage  of 
being,  so  was  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
which  seems,  every  morning,  to  repeo- 
ple  the  solitudes,  to  call  all  nature  from 
the  sepulchre  of  night,  and  crowd  once 
more  the  earth  with  animated  being,  in- 
tended to  impress  on  the  most  cursory 
observer  that  the  sleep  of  death  is  not 
to  be  perpetual,  but  shall  terminate  with 
the  dawning  of  a  day,  when  "all  that 
are  in  the  graves"  shall  hear  a  heavenly 
voice,  and  start  forth  from  their  resting- 
places.  I  cannot  think,  that  the  doc- 
trine of  a  resurrection  was  not  taught, 
whilst,  though  there  might  have  been  no 
immediate  revelation  on  so  sublime  a 
point,  men  lay  down  at  night  to  take 
their  rest,  and  awoke  in  the  morning 
reinvigorated  and  renewed.  Whilst 
sleep  imaged  death  with  such  accuracy, 
that  scarcely  any  one,  as  he  gazed  on  a 
slumbering  fellow-creature,  could  fail  to 
be  reminded  of  a  colder  and  a  longer 
repose,  every  one,  had  he  but  fairly 
followed  out  the  showings  of  the  meta- 
phor, might  at  least  have  conjectured, 
if  he  could  not  have  proved,  that  the 
dead  shall  yet  stir  in  their  narrow  beds, 
and  be  roused  again  to  consciousness 
and  activity. 

But,  whatever  the  degree  in  which 
the  truth  of  a  resurrection  might  have 
been  inferred  from  the  phenomena  of 
sleeping  and  waking,  there  can  be  no 
debate  that  the  figure,  or  metaphor, 
holds  good  in  every  particular,  so  that 
sleep  is  an  accurate  image  of  death, 
not  only  whilst  it  lasts,  but  also  when 
it  terminates.  And  when  we  find  the 
image  so  commonly  adopted  in  Scrip- 
ture, we  may  safely  conclude  that  God 
designed  to  fix  our  attention  on  the 
phenomena  of  sleep,  that  we  might 
learn  from  them  something  of  the  mys- 
teries of  death.     The  falling  asleep  re- 


presents to  us  the  act  of  dying;  the 
waking  again  represents  to  us  our  rising 
from  the  dead.  But  let  us  further  see 
whether  our  condition,  whilst  asleep, 
may  not  furnish  notices  of  our  condition 
whilst  we  lie  amongst  the  dead.  This 
would  only  seem  consistent  with  the 
character  of  the  metaphor:  if  the  falling 
asleep  figure  to  us  our  dying,  and  the 
waking  our  rising,  it  is  but  natural  to 
suppose  that  the  intermediate  state,  the 
state  between  the  falling  asleep  and 
the  waking,  must  bear  some  resem- 
blance to  that  wherein  we  shall  remain 
between  our  dying  and  our  rising  from 
the  dead.  Let  us  see  whether  there 
be  not  warrant  for  making  this  further 
use  of  the  metaphor,  and  what  truths 
may  be  thereby  illustrated  or  confirmed. 
In  sleep,  as  we  all  know,  "  it  is  not 
the  whole  man,  it  is  only  the  earthly 
part,  that  falleth  asleep."  *  The  bodily 
senses  and  faculties  are  suspended  from 
their  usual  exercise ;  but  the  mind  is 
more  than  commonly  active.  What 
flights  will  the  soul  take  during  sleep  : 
how  will  it  travel  to  the  very  ends  of 
the  earth,  the  very  limits  of  creation: 
what  conversations  will  it  hold  with 
known  or  unknown  beings — nay,  occa- 
sionally, as  though  the  soul  gained  vigor 
through  being  temporarily  emancipated 
from  the  shackles  of  the  body,  men 
find  themselves,  in  their  dreams,  rea- 
soning' with  greater  clearness,  under- 
standing more  thoroughly,  and  compos- 
ing more  freely,  than  they  have  been 
used  to  in  their  waking  hours.  It  may 
be  well  doubted  whether  the  soul  is 
ever  inactive :  we  do  not  always  re- 
member our  dreams;  but,  probably, 
we  always  dream  :  we  remember  our 
dreams,  when  our  sleep  has  been  dis- 
turbed, and  we  have  passed  what  we 
call  a  restless  night ;  but  it  may  not  be 
our  restlessness  which  has  made  us 
dream — we  might  have  equally  dreamt, 
had  our  sleep  been  profound — our  rest- 
lessness may  oiny  have  caused  that 
our  dreams  are  remembered,  whilst  a 
deeper,  a  less  broken,  sleep  would  have 
prevented  their  leaving  any  legible  im- 
pression. And  what  ought  we  to  gather 
from  this  activity  of  the  soul  during 
sleep  1  Surely,  that  the  soul  shall  be 
active,  whilst  the  body  lies  dead.  This 
is  only  keeping  up  the  metaphor.     The 

*  Jones  of  N  avian  d. 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


representation  has  been  most  accurate 
hitherto — the  falling  asleep  correspond- 
ing to  dying,  the  waking  up  to  rising 
again,  and  the  suspension  of  the  bodily 
organs  and  senses  from  their  accustomed 
exercises  being  much  the  same,  except 
as  to  duration,  in  the  slumbering  and  the 
dead.  Why  then  should  we  not  give 
completeness  to  the  imagery,  by  sup- 
posing that  the  condition  of  the  soul 
during  the  continuance  of  sleep,  corres- 
ponds to  that  during  the  continuance  of 
death  1  I  really  seem  hardly  to  need 
the  profound  arguments  of  the  meta- 
physician, or  the  theologian,  in  order 
to  the  being  convinced  that  the  soul  is 
not  in  a  state  of  torpor  whilst  the  body 
is  in  the  grave  :  I  have  evidence  enough 
in  my  very  dreams.  You  know  that  it 
has  often  been  a  debated  point,  whether 
the  soul  will  not  be  insensible,  when 
separated  from  the  body  ;  whether  the 
interval,  from  death  to  the  resurrection, 
will  not  be  one  of  utter  unconsciousness, 
our  immortal  part,  like  our  mortal,  un- 
dergoing the  complete  suspension  of 
every  faculty  and  power.  There  is 
good  testimony  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  and  still  better  from  Scripture, 
that  the  soul  shall  not  be  thus  uncon- 
scious, but,  immediately  on  leaving  the 
body,  shall  enter  on  a  state  of  happiness 
or  misery.  Yet,  take  from  me  all  this 
testimony,  and  I  say  again,  that  my 
very  dreams  might  persuade  me  of  the 
fact.  That  my  soul  is  not  inactive,  and 
unconscious,  whilst  my  body  is  asleep, 
seems  to  witness  to  me,  so  as  to  place 
beyond  doubt,  that  my  soul  shall  not  be 
inactive  and  unconscious  whilst  my  body 
lies  dead.  The  state  of  sleep  is  the 
standing  image  of  the  state  of  death  : 
and,  taking  the  metaphor  as  every  way 
accurate,  I  infer,  from  the  soul's  not 
sleeping  with  the  body,  the  soul's  not 
dying  with  the  body.  I  know  that 
dreams  are  wild  and  wandering  things 
— but  they  betoken  the  soul's  activity; 
and,  yet  more,  they  prove  the  soul 
susceptible  of  pleasure  and  pain,  whilst 
the  body  lies  insensible.  What  anguish 
we  sometimes  undergo  in  our  dreams: 
what  terrible  scenes  we  pass  through  : 
what  thorough  wretchedness  is  experi- 
enced :  what  relief  it  is  to  wake,  and 
find  it  but  a  dream !  On  the  other 
hand,  what  bright  visions  sometimes 
visit  us :  what  gladness  takes  possession 
of  us  !  we  have  reached  the  summit  of 


happiness,    and    enjoy    what    we    have 
long  Bought  ;    and  ii    is    actually  grief  to 

us  when  the  dream  passes,  and  m 
once  more  amongsi  the  cold  realities  of 
earth.    And  thus  our  very  dreams  might 

teach  us,  that  we  shall  be  experii  ,,. 
either  misery  or  happine  B,  whilst  the 
soul  is  separated  from  the  body ;  ihat 
the  separation  shall  not  take  from  us 
the  power,  whether  of  enjoying  good 
or  enduring  evil;  and  that  allotments 
of  the  one  or  of  the-  other  shall  be 
apportioned  to  us  between  death  and 
the  resurrection. 

Neither  is  this  all  that  may  be  said 
in  regard  of  the  illustration  of  our  state 
in  death,  which  may  be  derived  from 
that  in  sleep.  There  is  to  be  jidded 
what  may  be  learnt  from  such  passages 
of  Scripture  as  oitr  text,  which  teach 
us,  that,  whilst  the  body  is  asleep,  the 
soul  may  be  receiving  instruction.  It 
is  every  way  observable,  as  we  have 
already  remarked,  that  God  should  have 
made  such  frequent  use  of  visions  or 
dreams,  in  the  communicating  intima- 
tions of  his  will.  He  might  have  given 
these  intimations  through  many  other 
modes ;  ought  we  not  then  to  conclude 
that  there  was  some  special  design  in 
the  selecting  a  method,  which,  to  say 
the  least,  seems  wanting  in  the  clearness 
and  convincingness  which  might  have 
been  obtained  by  a  different  course  ] 
We  consider  that  nothing  can  be  more 
vague  or  uncertain,  than  a  dream  :  yet 
God  gave  instruction  by  and  through 
dreams — and  that  too  more  especially 
before  life  and  immortality  had  been 
brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel;  for  it 
was  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  world, 
when  but  little  Revelation  had  as  yet 
been  vouchsafed,  that  dreams  were  more 
commonly  made  the  vehicle  of  instruc- 
tion. And  it  may  have  been,  that,  in 
the  thus  frequently  employing  dreams, 
and  employing  them  more  frequently 
whilst  there  was  less  distinct  informa- 
tion as  to  man's  state  after  death,  God's 
purpose  was  to  direct  attention  to  the 
capacity  of  the  soul  for  receiving  in- 
struction, yet  not  through  the  organs  of 
the  body,  but  whilst  those  organs  might 
be  closed,  and  unable  to  discharge  their 
ordinary  offices.  At  all  events,  this  is 
practically  the  result  of  the  frequent 
use  of  dreams,  that  we  are  taught,  be- 
yond the  power  of  controversy,  that 
the  soul,  when  loosened  from  the  body, 


358 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


may  be  gainjng  great  accessions  of 
knowledge,  and  growing  in  acquaint- 
ance with  the  will  of  the  Almighty,  and 
the  secrets  of  the  universe. 

So  that  we  now  make  up  what  was 
wanting  in  the  illustration  of  death,  as 
derived  from  the  phenomena  of  sleep  ; 
and  may  assert  the  picture  perfect. 
The  lying  down  at  night  should  repre- 
sent to  us  the  lying  down  in  the  grave, 
and  the  rising  in  the  morning  our  resur- 
rection from  the  dead.  But  sleep  seizes 
only  on  the  body:  it  leaves  the  soul 
free,  free  to  use  its  own  powers,  yea, 
more  independent  in  their  use  than 
often  whilst  the  body  is  awake.  And 
this  should  inform  us  that  our  state 
between  death  and  the  resurrection  is 
not  to  be  a  state  of  inactivity  and  un- 
consciousness ;  but  th,at  throughout  that 
mysterious  interval,  the  interval  from 
the  body's  falling  asleep  to  its  starting 
up  again  at  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  man, 
the  soul  shall  be  in  full  possession,  and 
in  full  exercise,  of  her  own  peculiar 
faculties  ;  not  reduced  into  insensibility 
or  torpor,  but  rather  the  more  quicken- 
ed, and  made  the  more  susceptible, 
through  having  cast  off  the  weight  and 
incumbrance  of  the  flesh.  But,  never- 
theless, you  may  doubt  whether  the 
soul  will  then  experience  either  happi- 
ness or  misery  ;  whether,  till  the  general 
iudgment  have  assigned  the  portion  for 
eternity,  there  will  be  any  feeling  either 
of  pleasure  or  of  pain.  Here,  however, 
sleep  gives  its  testimony  :  dreams,  pro- 
ducing at  one  time  keen  anguish,  at 
another  rich  delight,  should  teach  us, 
that,  whilst  the  body  lies  slumbering  in 
the  grave,  the  soul  shall  not  only  be 
susceptible  of  pleasure  and  pain,  but 
shall  experience  either  one  or  the  other, 
a  foretaste  of  that  everlasting  portion 
which  will  be  assigned  to  it  at  the 
general  resurrection. 

And  now  there  remains  but  one  other 
question,  a  question  of  high  interest  in- 
deed, and  not  so  readily  to  be  answered 
from  a  mere  observing  the  facts  and 
phenomena  of  sleep.  Will  the  soul,  in 
her  separation  from  the  body  whilst  the 
body  is  in  the  grave,  acquire  more  and 
more  knowledge  1  Will  she  be  able, 
whilst  she  is  deprived  of  those  bodily 
organs  through  which  she  here  gathers 
in  knowledge,  to  receive  communications 
from  God,  intimations  of  his  will,  mani- 
festations of  his    glory  1      You   might 


dispute  the  accuracy  of  the  picture 
were  I  here  again  to  appeal  to  dreams 
vouchsafed  to  ourselves.  For  though 
there  may  still  occasionally  be  instances 
of  remarkable  dreams,  intelligence  ap- 
pearing to  be  sent  through  dreams  as  a 
vehicle,  there  is  so  general  an  indispo- 
sition to  the  recognizing  a  Divine  inter- 
ference with  human  aifairs,  that  few 
would  admit  these  instances  as  helping 
to  establish  any  theory.  But  Scripture 
comes  in  just  where  our  evidence  might 
be  defective  or  doubtful :  God's  recorded 
dealings  with  the  sleeping  enable  us  to 
complete  the  sketch  of  the  condition  of 
the  dead.  God  made  his  choicest  reve- 
lations to  his  servants  of  old  whilst  they 
were  asleep.  Whilst  they  slept  He 
whispered  to  them  promises,  gave  them 
commandments,  unveiled  to  them  se- 
crets. Then  I  have  no  fears  that  the 
soul,  when  detached  from  the  body  by 
death,  may  be  unable  to  make  progress 
in  acquaintance  with  high  and  heavenly 
things.  She  may  be  receiving  rich 
instruction,  and  drawing  in  fresh  stores 
of  glorious  truth,  before  as  well  as  after 
the  resurrection  of  the  body.  The  sep- 
arate state  shall  not  be  a  state  of  dull 
inactivity  or  low  attainment :  that  state 
is  imaged  by  sleep  :  and  as  if  to  tell  me 
what  the  righteous  may  expect  in  the 
separate  state,  God  hath  come  to  his 
servants  in  visions  of  the  night,  and 
taught  them  in  sleep  what  they  had 
vainly  striven  to  discover  when  awake. 
And  now  I  am  not  to  be  made  to  believe, 
because  of  any  metaphysical  difficulties, 
that  the  soul,  detached  from  the  body, 
will  be  incapable  of  apprehending  or 
appreciating  the  glories  of  the  invisible 
world  ;  for  I  can  think  of  Jacob  sleep- 
ing at  Bethel,  and  yet  beholding  the 
ladder  that  reached  from  earth  to  heaven, 
and  hearing  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God 
Almighty  who  stood  at  its  summit. 
Neither  can  I  give  room  to  any  fears 
that,  whilst  the  flesh  lies  slumbering  in 
the  grave,  the  soul  will  not  be  admitted 
into  acquaintance  with  portions  of  God's 
will  which  it  may  vainly  have  endeavored 
to  ascertain  whilst  on  earth  :  enough  that 
St.  Paul,  whilst  awake,  had  meditated 
to  preach  in  Asia,  and  assayed  to  go  into 
Bithynia,  seeking  fruitlessly  to  deter- 
mine what  God's  will  might  be ;  and 
yet  that  St.  Paul,  in  sleep,  which  is  the 
imaoe  of  death,  was  thoroughly  instruct- 
ed in  regard  of  that  will — there   stood 


THE   MACEDONIAN   TIIANTOM. 


359 


by  him  in  a  vision,  "  a  man  of  Macedonia, 
and  prayed  him,  saying,  Come  over  into 
Macedonia,  and  help  us." 

We  have  yet  to  notice  St.  Paul's  in- 
terpretation of  the  vision ;  and  hero  we 
have  a  point  of  as  much  interest  and 
instruction  as  either  of  those  which 
have  already  been  examined.  "  And 
after  he  had  seen  the  vision,  immediately 
we  endeavored  to  go  into  Macedonia, 
assuredly  gathering  that  the  Lord  had 
called  us  for  to  preach  the  Gospel  unto 
them."  We  may  suppose  that  the  Apos- 
tle had  some  way  of  distinctly  satisfying 
himself  that  the  vision  was  from  God  : 
he  was  not  left  in  any  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  Macedonian  phantom  were 
the  mere  creation  of  his  own  fancy,  or 
whether  it  were  indeed  a  messenger 
from  the  invisible  world.  But  there  is 
no  reason  to  think  that  any  further  reve- 
lation was  added:  the  expression,  "  as- 
suredly gathering, "  implies  that  the 
disciples  were  left  to  draw  the  inference 
from  the  vision  ;  that  they  were  not  told 
what  to  do,  except  so  far  as  directions 
were  contained  in  what  the  phantom 
said,  "  Come  over  and  help  us."  And 
the  thing  which  they  "  assuredly  gath- 
ered" was,  that  "  the  Lord  had  called 
them  for  to  preach  the  Gospel  unto  them" 
of  Macedonia.  They  never  seem  to 
have  imagined  that  there  might  be  any 
other  way  in  which  they  could  help  the 
Macedonians,  that  the  Macedonians 
could  want  any  other  sort  of  help  :  the 
invitation,  "  Come  over  and  help  us," 
could  bear,  according  to  them,  but  one 
interpretation,  "  Come  over  and  preach 
the  Gospel  to  us." 

Do  you  not,  then,  see  that  St.  Paul 
and  his  companions  lived  for  only  one 
o-bjeet  1  do  you  not  further  see  that  they 
acknowledged  but  one  remedy  for  all 
the  diseases,  one  supply  for  all  the 
wants,  of  the  world "?  They  lived  for 
only  one  object :  invited  into  a  new 
country,  they  could  have  but  one  pur- 
pose in  going  thither,  that  of  making 
Christ  known  to  its  inhabitants.  They 
acknowledged  but  one  remedy  for  hu- 
man diseases,  one  supply  for  human 
wants  :  called  upon  for  help,  they  never 
inquired  what  help  was  needed,  but 
'*  assuredly  gathered"  that  the  Gospel 
was  to  be  preached.  Ah,  how  very 
different  would  it  be  amongst  ourselves  ! 
Let  the  phantom  be  sent  to  one  of  our 
statesmen;    let   the   form  of  the  wild 


Indian,  or  of  the  African,  stand  by  his 
bedside  in  tin-  stillness  of  the  midnight, 
and  breathe,  in  accents  compelling  bia 

attention,  the  simple  entreaty,  "  C< 
over  and  help  ns,"  ami  how  would  tin; 
politician  interpret  the  call  '.  lie  would 
probably  conclude  that  ruthless  lues 
were  invading  the  distant  country  :  and 
his  first,  his  only  thought,  might  he  to 
send  an  army  to  its  succor.     Or  let   the 

spectre    go    and   speak    to    one    of  

merchants — he  would  presently  think 
of  commercial  embarassments  or  com- 
mercial openings  :  he  would  imagine 
that  the  trade  of  the  half-civilized  coun- 
try required  to  be  put  on  a  sound  foot- 
ing, and  directed  into  right  channels  ; 
and  if  he  "  assuredly  gathered"  any 
thing,  it  would  perhaps  be  that  he  must 
at  once  freight  a  vessel,  and  send  out  a 
mercantile  establishment.  Or  if.it  were 
even  to  one  of  our  benevolent  and  phi- 
lanthropic men  that  the  phantom  ad- 
dressed itself,  the  likelihood  is,  that,  on 
hearing  of  help  being  wanted  by  a 
distant  nation  or  community,  he  would 
set  himself  to  the  making  inquiries  into 
the  special  necessities  of  that  people — 
were  they  visited  with  famine]  were 
they  laid  waste  by  pestilence  1  and  he 
would  hesitate  as  to  what  help  could 
be  given,  till  he  had  made  out  some 
particular  and  temporal  evil  under  which 
they  were  laboring. 

And  yet,  whatever  our  calling  or  oc- 
cupation, we  are  professed  servants  of 
Christ,  and  all  bound,  by  the  vows  of 
our  profession,  to  take  as  our  chief  ob- 
ject the  advancing  Christ's  kingdom. 
It  was  not  merely  because  St.  Paul's 
business  was  that  of  a  preacher  that  he 
interpreted  a  cry  for  help  into  a  cry  for 
the  Gospel:  St.  Paul  was  also  a  tent- 
maker  ;  St.  Luke,  who  was  with  him, 
appears  to  have  been  a  physician  :  but. 
it  never  occurred  to  either  the  one  or 
the  other,  that  assistance  might  be  want- 
ed to  teach  a  trade  or  heal  a  disease  : 
their  ruling  desire  was  that  of  glorifying 
Christ;  all  else  was  subordinate  to  this  : 
they  could  not,  therefore,  be  invited  in- 
to a  country  and  not  seize  on  the  invita- 
tion as  an  opening  for  Christianity. 
They  might  find  other  help  besides 
spiritual  help  needed  when  they  reach- 
ed Macedonia;  but  they  could  have 
but  one  great  purpose  in  going 
to  Macedonia— that  of  planting  the 
cross  in  a  new  region  of  idolatry.     Or, 


360 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


if  you  take  the  other  view  of  their  infer- 
ence and  determination,  if  you  suppose, 
that  with  the  politician,  the  merchant, 
or  the  philanthropist,  they  would  make 
inquiry  into  the  special  circumstances 
of  the  Macedonians — what  an  estimate 
did  they  form  of  the  worth  and  power  of 
Christianity,  in  reaching  hut  one  conclu- 
sion, that  they  were  called  to  preach  the 
Gospel.  They  formed  a  right  estimate, 
though  one,  alas  !  which  we  are  practical- 
ly loath  to  hold  in  common  witli  them. 
They  computed  that,  let  the  particular 
evils  be  what  they  might  which  wrung 
from  the  Macedonians  the  cry  for  assis- 
tance— war,  or  famine,  or  anarchy,  or 
pestilence — they  should  take  to  them 
the  most  suitable  and  the  most  effectual 
of  remedies,  in  simply  taking  to  them 
the  Gospel  of  Christ.  They  thought, 
and  they  believed,  that  in  carrying 
Christianity  to  a  land,  they  were  carry- 
ing that  which  would  best  rectify  disor- 
ders, alleviate  distresses,  assuage  sor- 
rows, and  multiply  happiness.  And, 
therefore,  they  never  stopped  to  consider 
whether  they  had  at  their  disposal  the 
particular  engine  which,  on  a  human 
computation,  might  be  suited  for  counter- 
acting a  particular  evil — enough  that 
they  had  the  Gospel  to  preach  ;  and 
they  felt  that  they  had  an  engine  which 
could  in  no  case  be  inappropriate,  and 
in  none  inefficient. 

Would  that  the  like  estimate  of  Chris- 
tianity were  practically  held  amongst 
ourselves  ;  that,  entreated  by  the  Mace- 
donian for  help,  we  felt  at  once,  that  if 
we  sent  him  Christianity,  we  should 
send  him  what  he  wanted,  though  it 
might  not  be  what  he  asked.  The  Gos- 
pel is  really  this  universal  engine,  the 
remedy  for  all  diseases,  the  supply  of 
all  wants — but  we  distrust  it,  and  are 
for  assisting  if  not.  superseding  it  with 
inventions  of  our  own.  Introduced  into 
the  households  and  hearts  of  a  people, 
it  will  quickly  do  immeasurably  more 
than  politicians  could  ever  dictate,  or 
philosophers  devise,  for  raising  that 
people  in  the  scale  of  civilization,  dis- 
seminating amongst  them  arts  and 
sciences,  destroying  feuds,  jealousies, 
and  contentions,  and  diffusing  the  ele- 
ments of  real  greatness  and  real  happi- 
ness. Let  us  learn,  from  the  example 
of  St.  Paul,  to  set  a  higher  value  on  the 
Gospel  :  whether  it  be  as  a  nation  or  as 
individuals  that  we  are  called  upon  by 


the  Macedonian  for  help  ;  whether  the 
cry,  borne  from  heathen  lands,  be  a  cry 
specifically  for  religious  instruction,  or 
the  cry  generally  of  suffering  and  de- 
graded humanity — oh,  that  with  St. 
Paul  we  might  know  and  feel,  that  hav- 
ing deposited  with  us  "the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus,"  we  have  a  blessing  to  trans- 
mit which  cannot  fail  to  meet  the  exi- 
gence ;  oh,  that  we  might  show  our 
sense  of  the  universal  suitableness  and 
efficiency  of  Christianity,  by  "  assuredly 
gathering"  that  the  Lord  hath  called  us 
to  the  preaching  the  Gospel ! 

And  let  another  lesson  be  also  drawn 
from  the  conduct  of  St.  Paul  and  his 
companions.  Observe  how  ready  they 
were  to  obey  God's  will  the  moment 
they  had  ascertained  it.  "Immediately 
we  endeavored  to  go  into  Macedonia." 
The  expression  implies  that  there  were 
difficulties  in  the  way  ;  but  there  was 
an  instant  effort  at  overcoming  them. 
It  had  not  been  into  Macedonia  that 
they  had  been  wishing  or  purposing  to 
go  :  and  unbelief  might  have  suggested, 
Shall  we  let  a  phantom  guide  us  ]  ought 
we  not  at  least  to  wait  for  some  less 
dubious  intimation  ?  But  no ;  there 
was  sufficient  reason  to  think  that  God's 
will  was  now  discovered ;  and  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  hasten  to 
the  sea,  and  seek  the  means  of  embark- 
ing. Alas,  we  are  all  ready  enough  to 
follow  the  leadings  of  God's  providence 
when  they  concur  with  our  own  wish  ; 
but  how  reluctant  are  we,  yea,  often 
how  rebellious,  when  God  points  in  one 
direction,  and  inclination  in  another! 
This  is  the  trial — to  set  out  for  Mace- 
donia, to  which  duty  calls  us,  in  place 
of  staying  at  Troas,  to  which  our  own 
wishes  bind  us.  But  a  Christian  should 
have  no  will  of  his  own  :  he  is  the  ser- 
vant of  a  Master  in  heaven,  aid  the  only 
thing  for  him  to  ascertain  is,  where  that 
Master  would  have  him  work,  and  what 
He  would  have  him  do.  Has  the  phan- 
tom been  at  his  bedside  1  has  the  man 
of  Macedonia  glided  before  him,  de- 
livering a  summons  in  which  he  has 
clearly  heard  the  voice  of  his  Master1? 
Then  he  ought  not  to  confer  with  flesh 
and  blood.  He  is  indeed  to  take  every 
just  means  for  assuring  himself  that  he 
is  not  deceived ;  that  the  phantom  has 
not  been  woven  from  the  imagining  of 
his  own  brain,  but  has  really  been  sent 
to  him  by  his  Master.     But  this  having 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


3G1 


been  duly  clone,  there  is  no  room  for 

hesitation,  no  place  for  deliberation  : 
obstacles  are  not  to  be  considered,  diffi- 
culties not  made  of  account:  go  forward, 
forward  in  faith;  for  the  phantom  shall 
rise  up  at  the  judgment,  and  accuse 
the  Christian  of  indolence,  or  cowardice, 
or  want  of  self-denial,  if,  after  having 
heard  the  call,  "Come  over,  and  help 
us,"  it  could  not  be  said  of  him,  "Im- 
mediately he  endeavored  to  go  into 
Macedonia." 

And  are  we  not  summoned  to  Mace- 
donia 1  Has  not  the  phantom  crossed 
the  seas,  and  stood  upon  our  shores  1 
and  is  not  the  voice  for  assistance  shrill, 
and  clear,  and  piercing]  My  brethren, 
the  voice  is  yet  more  thrilling,  and  more 
plaintive,  than  that  which  fell,  in  night 
visions,  on  the  ear  of  St.  Paul.  It  is 
the  voice,  not  only  of  the  Macedonian, 
the  foreigner,  the  heathen ;  it  is  the 
voice  of  our  own  countrymen.  It  is 
from  our  own  country,  from  our  own 
colonies,  that  the  cry  is  heard,  "  Come 
over  and  help  us."  Pleading  this  day 
for  the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian 
Knowledge,  whose  special  field  of  labor 
is  our  own  vast  empire,  at  home  and 
abroad,  it  is  to  the  voice,  as  issuing 
from  our  towns  and  our  colonies,  that 
my  office-  bids  me  ask  your  earnest 
attention. 

For  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  has  this  society  been  engaged  in 
its  noble  but  arduous  work.  And  it 
has  extraordinary  claims  on  the  liber- 
ality of  Christians — I  shall  not  hesitate 
to  say,  greater  claims  than  any  other; 
its  especial  field  of  labor  being,  as  we 
have  just  said,  our  own  vast  empire; 
and  for  whom  are  we  so  much  bound 
to  provide  Christian  instruction,  as  for 
those  millions  of  our  fellow-subjects 
who,  at  home,  or  in  foreign  lands, 
whether  natives  of  the  soil  or  emigrants 
from  amongst  ourselves,  are  destitute 
of  that  instruction  which  maketh  wise 
unto  salvation  1  The  heathen  are  not 
excluded  from  the  operations  of  this 
society  :  in  India  its  labors  are  strictly 
missionary :  it  spreads  the  knowledge 
of  salvation  amongst  idolaters  and  Ma 
homedans  :  it  was  the  first  society  to 
assist  missions  in  the  East — though, 
alas  !  what  are  its  most  earnest  efforts 
amongst  one  hundred  millions  of  ac- 
countable beings,  subjects  to  the  same 
earthly   sovereign  with    ourselves,  but 


ignorant  of  that  heavenly  King  whose 
sceptre  we  profess  to  acknowledge  I 

It   is  however  chiefly    amongsl    oar 
own  countrymen  that  tbesociety,  whose 

cause  I  now  advocate,  exhausts  its 
resources.  Think  of  the  countrymen 
at  home.  Think  of  the  necessity  for 
schools,  for  Bibles,  for  religions  books. 
The  Society  for  Promoting  Christian 
Knowledge  strives  to  meet  this  neces- 
sity. If  it  do  not  actually  rear  the 
school-houses,  it  supplies  the  imple- 
ments of  a  sound  Christian  education, 
and  is  thus  mainly  instrumental  to  the 
diffusion  of  really  valuable  knowledge 
in  our  scattered  villages  and  crowded 
cities.  But  turn  from  your  countrymen 
at  home  to  your  countrymen  abroad, 
Know  ye  any  thing  of  the  spiritual 
destitution  of  these  countrymen?  Let 
me  briefly  sketch  it  to  you — you  should 
know  something  of  the  spiritual  destitu- 
tion of  our  colonies,  if  you  would  know 
what  a  field  is  open  to  the  Society  for 
Promoting  Christian  Knowledge,  and 
kindred  institutions.  The  Society  for 
Promoting  Christian  Knowledge  aids 
foreign  missions  by  grants  of  money 
and  of  books,  and  by  translations  both 
of  the  Bible  and  Prayer  Book — I  cannot 
therefore  plead  for  this  society  without 
mentioning  foreign  operations.  Look 
then  at  British  North  America  in  its 
three  divisions  of  the  Canadas  and  Nova- 
Scotia.  Here  you  have  a  population  of 
nearly  a  million  and  a  half,  scattered 
over  an  enormous  tract  of  country  ;  but 
the  whole  number  of  clergy  employed 
in  these  provinces  does  not  much  exceed 
two  hundred.  Is  there  no  cry  thence, 
"  Come  over  and  help  us  V  Look  at 
Newfoundland,  with  a  population  of 
eighty  or  ninety  thousand,  dispersed 
amongst  the  bays  and  creeks  of  an 
intricate  and  inhospitable  coast — there 
may  be  from  thirty  to  forty  clergy  to 
minister  to  these  many  thousands.  Look 
at  Australia,  the  enormous  continent 
whence  future  nations  are  to  .spring, 
where  we  see  already  the  foundations 
of  an  empire,  which,  if  it  began  in  the 
felon  and  the  slave,  may  yet  give  laws 
to  half  the  globe — you  have  here,  per- 
haps, one  hundred  and  forty  thousand 
of  your  countrymen,  for  whom,  by  a 
mighty  strain,  our  Church  Societies  sup- 
port from  forty  to  fifty  clergymen.  Is 
there  no  piercing  cry,  "  Come  over  and 
help  us." 


362 


THE  MACEDONIAN  PHANTOM. 


I  blush  to  proceed  with  such  an 
enumeration.  I  hear  much  of  the  won- 
derfulness,  the  gloriousness,  of  our  colo- 
nial empire.  They  tell  me  that  on  its 
vast  outspread  the  sun  never  sets,  and 
that  the  Roman  eagle  in  its  most  mag- 
nificent sweep,  never  gathered  under 
its  wing  so  ample  a  territory.  But  I 
see  no  elements  of  strength  in  an  empire 
where  there  is  no  adequate  provision 
for  religious  instruction.  At  the  best, 
such  an  empire  is  compounded,  like 
the  feet  of  the  great  image,  of  the  iron 
and  the  clay ;  the  true  principle  of  co- 
herence is  wanting  ;  and  extent  can  only 
ensure  more  tremendous  dissolution. 
As  a  nation,  we  have  done  little  or 
nothing  for  the  maintenance  of  religion 
in  our  colonies — forgetting,  to  say  the 
least,  that  colonies  cannot,  for  a  long 
time,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
provide  religious  instruction  for  them- 
selves. Hereafter,  when  they  shall  have 
settled  themselves  in  opulence  and 
strength,  they  will  rear  a  native  clergy, 
and  give  endowments  to  a  church.  But 
whilst  the  mother  country  pours  in  every 
year  its  thousands  of  emigrants,  how 
can  instruction  be  furnished  for  the 
ever-growing  demand,  unless  we  send 
shepherds  as  well  as  sheep  to  the  waste 
and  the  wilderness  1 

We  have  been  sorely  negligent  here- 
in. We  have  got  rid  of  our  surplus 
population,  the  artisans  and  the  peas- 
ants, who  could  not  wring  subsistence 
from  our  overstocked  factories  and 
fields.  We  have  encouraged,  we  have 
assisted,  them  to  emigrate,  that  we 
might  have  ampler  room  at  home  and 


less  desperate  competition ;  and  then, 
having  cast  them  on  a  foreign  shore,  we 
have  left  them  without  schools,  without 
churches,  without  pastors,  without  Bi- 
bles, and  yet  have  expected  them  to 
remain  loyal  to  their  sovereign,  though 
they  might  not  be  faithful  to  their  God. 
It  is  time  that  we  roused  ourselves, 
and  wiped  off  the  national  disgrace.  If 
reasons  of  state  prevent  the  legislature 
from  supplying  what  is  needed,  private 
benevolence  must  step  forward  and  un- 
dertake the  work.  The  Society  for 
Promoting  Christian  Knowledge  labors 
hand  in  hand  with  that  for  the  Propaga- 
tion of  the  Gospel  to  meet  the  ever- 
growing demand.  But  the  resources 
of  both  are  cramped — what  then  is  to 
be  done  1  Done]  you  will  give  the  an- 
swer, for  your  part,  to-day.  The  society 
is  to  be  liberally •  supported  :  the  cry, 
"  Come  over  and  help  us,"  is  to  be 
heard  and  answered  :  efforts  are  to  be 
made,  sacrifices  are  to  be  made ;  and 
you  will  make  them  this  day.  You 
will  clear  your  own  consciences  ;  you 
will  set  an  example  to  others ;  and  from 
this  city,  we  trust,  shall  a  voice  go 
forth  to  other  districts  of  our  land,  the 
answer  to  the  voice  from  Macedonia. 
Yes,  dwellers  on  distant  shores,  dwel- 
lers in  our  own  swarming  towns,  the 
phantom  has  been  with  us :  he  has 
roused  us  from  our  lethargy  :  we  have 
heard  the  summons,  "  Come  over  and 
help  us  :"  and  henceforwards  we  will 
spare  no  pains,  no  cost,  to  communicate 
unto  you  the  bread  of  life,  for  we 
assuredly  gather  that  God  hath  "  called 
us  to  preach  the  Gospel  unto  you." 


EDUCATION. 


303 


SERMON   XIII. # 


EDUCATION. 


"  My  son,  if  thine  heart  be  wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice,  even  mine."— Proverbs  xxiii.  15. 


Our  moral  constitution  is  such,  that 
whilst  there  is  any  thing  like  a  healthful 
play   of  our   powers    and   sensibilities, 
we  derive  pain  and  pleasure  from  the 
pain  and  pleasure  of  others,  so  that  to 
grieve  a  fellow-creature  is  to  grieve  our- 
selves,  and  to   make  him   happy  is  to 
increase    our   own   happiness.      There 
may,  indeed,  be  such  a  derangement  of 
the  moral    constitution,  that    the    very 
reverse    shall    take    place  :  hatred  and 
revengeful ness  may  acquire  such  power, 
that  something  like  gratification   is  de- 
rived from  the  misery  of  an  enemy,  and 
envy  will  undoubtedly  look  with  dislike 
and  distress  on  the  prosperity  of  a  rival. 
But  these  instances  tell  nothing  against 
the  truth  of  our  being  made  to  "rejoice 
with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  to  weep 
with  them  that  weep  ;"  they  only  prove 
that   we   are  so    constituted,    as  to    be 
intimately   acted    on    by    the    condition 
of  others,  but  so  disordered  by  sin  that 
the  springs  work  the  wrong  way,  mak- 
ing the   pleasure  come  from  the    pain, 
and  the  pain  from  the  pleasure  ;  though 
the  precise  reverse  would  be  the  case 
were  the    mechanism  repaired,  and  its 
several  wheels  set  to  rights.     And  when 
the  Psalmist  delivered  his  general  max- 
im, that   in    keeping  God's   command- 
ments   there   is    great   reward,  he  may 
be  thought  to  have  had  regard  to  love  as 
the  fulfilment  of  the  law ;  for  certainly 
if  love  fulfil  the  law,  there  is  a  present 
reward  in  keeping  the  law  :  we  cannot 
love  our  neighbor  without  feeling  him 
in  some  sense  a  part  of  ourselves  ;   and 
then  our  own  happiness  is   multiplied 


*  Preached  at  Liverpool,  on  behalf  of  the  Na- 
tional Schools. 


through  the  adding  to  it  his.  True  in- 
deed, if  we  thus  make  his  happiness 
our  own,  we  must  also  make  his  misery  : 
but  then  sharing  another's  grief  makes 
that  grief  lighter  to  the  sufferer  ;  and 
surely  there  is  a  satisfaction,  yea,  a 
pleasure  in  pain,  if  it  help,  iu  any  way, 
to  the  soothing  one  whom  we  love. 

Thus  we  may  fairly  give  it,  not  only 
as  one  of  the  features  in  our  moral 
constitution,  but  as  one  great  motive  to 
thankfulness  to  our  Creator,  that  we  are 
to  be  made  happy  through  the  happi- 
ness of  others,  as  well  as  through  the 
direct  communication  to  ourselves  of  the 
material  of  happiness.  And  hence  we 
can  be  justly  and  powerfully  urged  to 
the  doing  or  the  forbearing  certain 
things,  on  the  principle  that  others  will 
be  thereby  affected,  whether  for  evil  or 
for  good.  The  man  of  the  greatest 
selfishness  may  not  shut  himself  up  in 
himself,  declaring  that  he  cares  not  for 
an  effect  upon  others,  and  that  if  you 
would  move  him  you  must  speak  simply 
of  effects  upon  himself.  The  effect 
upon  others  will,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  if  not  through  direct  impact  yet 
through  reflection,  be  an  effect  upon 
himself;  and  it  may  often  be  but  an 
appeal  to  his  selfishness,  to  entreat  him 
to  act  as  though  he  were  divested  of 
selfishness.  The  moral  constitution,  if 
obstinately  thwarted,  is  continually 
avenging  itself:  he  who  strives  to  live 
for  himself,  and  thus  does  violence  to  a 
great  law  of  his  nature,  eats  of  the  fruit 
of  his  own  ways,  and  has  disquietudes 
forced  upon  him  by  the  disquietudes  of 
others. 

But  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  particu- 
lar case,  how  powerful  is  or  should  be 


364 


EDUCATION. 


the  motive  to  the  doing  or  the  forbear- 
ing certain  things,  which  is  derived  from 
the  effect  that  will  be  thereby  produced 
on  those  with  whom  we  have  the  most 
intimate  association.  You  may  think  it, 
if  you  will,  but  an  exaggerated  expect- 
ation, that  men  may  be  influenced  in 
their  actions  by  the  consequences  of  those 
actions  on  the  unknown  and  remote, 
consequences  which  may,  in  some  way 
or  measure,  return  upon  themselves. 
But  take  the  case  of  parties  bound  to- 
gether by  the  closest  ties  of  relationship, 
surely  there  is  nothing  fanciful  or  far- 
fetched in  expecting  that  it  will  be  a 
motive  of  great  power  with  the  one,  that 
6uch  or  such  an  action  will  have  great 
effect  upon  the  other.  Here,  at  all 
events,  the  reciprocity  is  so  immediate 
and  acknowledged — unless,  indeed,  the 
moral  constitution  have  sustained  far 
more  than  the  ordinary  derangement — 
that  we  may  safely  take  it  as  amount- 
ing to  nearly  the  same  thing,  if  we  show 
a  parent  or  a  child,  for  example,  that 
he  will  benefit  himself,  or  that  he  will 
benefit  that  other  who  is  but  part  of 
himself.  And  it  would  seem  to  be  upon 
this  principle  that  Solomon  proceeds  in 
delivering  the  words  of  our  text.  There 
can  be  no  debate  that  he  wishes  to  fur- 
nish his  son  with  a  motive  to  the  doing 
right.  But  whence  does  he  fetch  this 
motive  ]  Not  from  the  immediate  ef- 
fect upon  the  son,  but  from  the  immedi- 
ate effect  upon  himself.  "  My  heart 
shall  rejoice,  even  mine."  He  repeats 
it,  you  observe,  that  there  might  be  no 
mistake  :  it  is  not,  "  thy  heart  shall  re- 
joice," but  "  my  heart,  even  mine."  Yet 
We  may  not  think  that  Solomon  was 
here  urging  on  his  son  the  making  a 
sacrifice  of  his  own  happiness  in  order 
to  promote  his.  He  was  rather  saying 
to  him,  Make  me  happy  and  that  will 
make  yourself.  If  he  left  out  all  men- 
tion of  the  child's  happiness,  and  spake 
only  of  his  own,  we  may  be  sure  that 
he  proceeded  on  the  acknowledged 
principle  that  such  is  the  association  be- 
tween the  parent  and  the  child,  that 
what  was  done  to  gladden  the  father 
would  be  most  effectual  in  causing  glad- 
ness to  the  son.  And  we  have,  there- 
fore, in  our  text  a  very  peculiar,  but. 
a  very  touching  appeal  to  children — an 
appeal  that  they  strive  to  do  right  for 
the  sake  of  the  pleasure  which  their  so 
doing  will  cause  to  their  parents.     But ' 


then  the  child  might  be  disposed  to  meet 
this  appeal  with  a  sort  of  remonstrance, 
as  though  it  were  somewhat  unreason- 
able to  require  him  to  act  with  a  view 
to  the  happiness  of  another,  rather  than 
his  own.  We  have  taken  pains,  there- 
fore, at  the  very  outset,  to  remove  this 
objection  by  fixing  thought  on  the  inti- 
macy of  the  association  between  parent 
and  child,  showing  you  that  it  can  only 
be  where  there  is  some  monstrous  dis- 
ruption, some  fearful  want  of  natural 
affection,  that  the  one  can  make  the 
other  happier,  and  not  also  make  him- 
self. Let  this  be  borne  in  mind  as  we 
proceed  with  our  discourse,  and  no  child 
will  say  that  he  is  not  sufficiently  left  to 
consult  his  own  interests,  if  we  expect 
it  to  have  great  weight  with  him  in  de- 
ciding or  regulating  his  conduct,  that  a 
father  or  a  mother,  as  if  requiring  him 
to  act  without  thought  for  himself,  may 
address  him,  and  urge  him,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Solomon,  "  My  son,  if  thine 
heart  be  wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice, 
even  mine." 

But  now  let  us  proceed  to  the  more 
distinct  examination  of  the  passage,  and 
to  the  endeavor  at  extracting  from  it  its 
several  lessons,  whether  to  patents  01 
children.  Our  foregoing  remarks  have 
gone  to  the  showing,  that  if  a  child  do 
that  which  will  make  a  parent  happier, 
he  does  that  which  will  also  make  him- 
self. It  may,  perhaps,  seem  necessary 
to  qualify  these  remarks,  by  observing 
that  undoubtedly  the  parent  may  be 
seeking  happiness  where  it  is  not  to  be 
found  ;  and  that  consequently  the  child, 
if  it  follow  the  parent's  wish,  may  only 
be  heaping  up  material  of  disquietude 
for  both.  This,  however,  does  not  touch 
the  general  argument  as  to  such  an  as- 
sociation between  parent  and  child,  that 
what  generates  happiness  or  unhappi- 
ness  to  the  one,  must,  by  reflection, 
generate  happiness  or  unhappiness  to 
the  other.  If,  indeed,  either  mistake 
wherein  true  happiness  lies,  and  lead 
the  other  to  share  his  mistake,  it  will  be 
unhappiness  which  is  ultimately  produc- 
ed— produced  not  only  in  one,  but  in 
both ;  but  this  will  but  confirm  the 
principle  on  which  we  insist,  showing 
how  the  two  act  the  one  upon  the  other, 
though  showing  also  the  importance  of 
seeking  in  a  right  direction  for  that 
which  it  is  so  disastrous  to  seek  for  in 
a  wronjj. 


EDUCATION. 


3G5 


And  here  it  is  that  we  must  entreat 
you  to  observe  what  it  was  that  the 
child  was  to  acquire,  in  order  that  Solo- 
mon's heart  might  rejoice*  Solomon 
was  a  great  king,  reigning  over  a  migh- 
ty and  prosperous  people  :  but  he  w;is 
not  so  distinguished  by  the  extent  of 
dominion,  or  the  vastness  of  wealth,  as 
by  his  wisdom,  his  profound  acquain- 
tance with  every  department  of  know- 
ledge. And  what,  then,  was  likely  to 
have  been  uppermost  in  the  desires  of 
Solomon  on  behalf  of  his  son,  judging 
him,  that  is,  by  what  is  common  amongst 
ourselves,  if  not  that  he  might  be  fitted 
to  wield  the  same  sceptre,  to  sit  on  the 
same  throne,  to  sustain,  or  even  amplify, 
the  empire  which  had  risen  to  such  a 
pitch  of  renown  ]  Or  if  the  monarch 
had  felt  how  far  more  precious  and 
costly  was  the  wisdom  which  drew 
round  him  an  audience  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  than  royalty  with  its  most 
brilliant  insignia,  at  least  you  would  have 
expected  him  to  desire  for  his  son  that 
universal  science,  that  mastery  over 
deep  and  secret  things,  that  vast,  and 
comprehensive  knowledge,  with  which 
his  name  ever  has  been,  and  will  con- 
tinue, identified.  And  Solomon  did 
desire  wisdom  for  his  son  :  Solomon  did 
make  his  own  happiness  result,  not  from 
his  son's  being  powerful,  not  from  his 
being  opulent,  but  from  his  being  wise. 
But  what  wisdom  did  he  crave  for  him  ] 
from  what  wisdom  was  he  to  draw 
gladness  for  himself]  "  My  son,  if  thine 
heart  be  wise."  Observe,  we  pray  you, 
it  is  not  "if  thine  head  be  wise," 
but,  "if  thine  heart  be  wise."  And 
what  is  heart-wisdom1?  Nay,  it  is  that 
which  was  never  acquired  in  the 
schools,  which  may  be  wanting  where 
there  is  the  largest  possible  acquaint- 
ance with  what  passes  for  science, 
and  possessed  where  there  is  the  great- 
est possible  ignorance  of  all  of  which 
philosophy  boasts,  or  attempts,  the 
scrutiny.  Heart-wisdom  is  religion  : 
he  alone  is  wise  in  heart  whose  heart 
has  been  operated  upon  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  so  that  he  discerns  the  superiority 
of  eternal  things  to  temporal,  and  sets 
himself  in  earnest  to  the  securing  him- 
self happiness  in  a  world  beyond  the 
grave.  It  were  idle  to  apply  the  defini- 
tion to  any  other  case ;  for  no  other 
kind  of  knowledge  but  the  knowledge 
of  God  even  pretends  to  make  its  seat 


in  the  heart:  every  other  avowedly  ad- 
dresses itself  to  the  understanding,  and 
is  satisfied  in  having  the  intellect  devot- 
ed to  its  acquisition  :  but  "  My  son,  ehre 
me  thine  heart,"  is  the  address  of  &od 
to  every  one  of  his  rational  creatures  : 
and  though  He  may  use  the  head  as  an 
avenue  to  the  heart,  yet  is  there  nothing 
really  done  in  religion  till  the  heart  have 
been  carried  ;  it  is  only  in  that  inner 
shrine  that  there  can  be  deposited  "the 
wisdom  which  is  from  above."  And 
you  need  only  the  slightest  acquaintance 
with  Scripture,  and  specially  with  the 
book  of  Proverbs,  to  be  aware  thai  they 
only  are  spoken  of  as  actually  wise  who 
are  "wise  unto  salvation;"  no  wisdom 
being  thought  worthy  of  the  name  which 
has  not  heaven  for  its  origin  and  end, 
and  the  heart  for  its  abode.  There 
can,  therefore,  be  no  debate  that  what 
Solomon  wished  for,  when  wishing  that 
his  son  might  be  wise  in  heart,  was  that 
this  son  might  fear  and  love  God  ;  that, 
whatever  else  he  might  acquire,  and 
whatever  else  he  might  want,  he  might 
be  truly  religious,  a  follower  of  those 
who  professed  and  felt  themselves 
strangers  upon  earth. 

But,  alas  !  how  different  for  the  most 
part  is  the  wish  of  parents,  at  least  if 
that  wish  be  gathered  from  their  actions, 
rather  than  their  words !  Would  it 
content  most  of  us,  would  it  gladden 
most  of  us,  that  our  children  gave 
promise  of  piety,  if,  at  the  same  time, 
they  gave  little  or  no  promise  of  ability  ] 
Is  it  an  indication  of  their  being  "  wise 
in  heart"  which  makes  us  thrill  with 
pleasure]  is  it  not  rather  an  indication 
of  their  "  being  wise  in  head  ]  "  We 
wish  for  them  the  dangerous,  if  not  the 
fatal,  dowry  of  intellectual  endowment ; 
we  long  that  they  should  be  able  to  car- 
ry off  the  prizes  at  school  and  at  college  ; 
and,  perhaps,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
it  would  not  be  without  a  pang  of  disap- 
pointment and  regret  that  we  heard  of 
their  being  fond  of  the  Bible,  but  unable 
to  make  way  in  Latin  and  Greek.  Not 
that  there  is  any  need  for  depreciating, 
for  undervaluing,  intellectual  ability  and 
literary  acquirement.  They  are  choice 
things  ;  and  if  a  child  show  talent,  and 
if  he°outrun  his  competitors,  there  is  no 
reason  why  a  parent  should  not  be 
gratified  and  thankful;  the  talent  is 
God's  gift,  a  gift  which  God  designed 
to  be  employed  and  improved,  and  cer- 


366 


EDUCATION. 


tainly  we  are  neither  to  lament  nor  con- 
ceal it,  as  though  it  were  not  fitted  for 
admirable  purposes ;  we  are  rather  to 
cultivate  and  develope  it  as  tha.  which 
may  be  largely  beneficial,  and  vastly 
promote  the  Divine  glory.  But  at  least 
it  can  hardly  be  with  unmixed  pleasure 
that  a  right-minded  parent  marks  the 
indications  of  ability  in  his  child.  What 
a  perilous  gift  is  talent !  How  likely 
to  be  wrongly  directed  !  how  sure,  if  it 
be,  to  work  misery  to  its  possessor,  and 
to  numbers  besides  !  And  even  if  well 
and  successfully  used,  to  what  dangers 
does  it  expose  !  the  eminence  to  which 
it  may  raise  a  man,  is  but  a  point  from 
which  he  may  fall,  fall  with  greater 
force,  and  with  less  hope  of  recovery. 

Is  then  the  want  of  talent  in  a  child 
to  be  so  deeply  deplored  ]  is  the  pre- 
sence of  it  to  be  so  admired  1  is  that 
necessarily  the  flower,  the  hope  of  the 
family,  who  is  all  keenness  and  power, 
with  mental  grasp,  and  mental  reten- 
tiveness,  which  give  promise  of  the 
first-rate  classic,  or  the  distinguished 
mathematician'?  Alas!  alas!  how  often 
is  the  first-rate  classic  the  elegant  tri- 
fler,  and  the  distinguished  mathema- 
tician the  captions  sceptic.  And  better 
the  idiot  with  his  shut-up  mind,  his 
stifled  understanding,  than  the  clever 
youth  who  is  too  witty  for  seriousness, 
or  too  argumentative  for  belief.  No, 
no,  let  talent  have  its  due  place;  let  us 
assign  to  learning  its  due  worth  ;  but 
let  us  not  speak  of  ourselves  as  Christian 
parents,  if  our  first  wish  for  our  children 
be  not  that  they  may  be  religious,  if 
their  being  wise  in  heart  make  not  up, 
in  our  estimate,  for  every  other  defi- 
ciency. And  yet,  perhaps,  whilst  there 
is  not  one  of  you,  who  will  not,  in 
theory,  assent  to  the  justice  of '  this 
decision,  numbers  of  you  know  very 
well  that  it  secretly  condemns  them. 
You  are  all  alive  to  the  indications  of 
ability  in  your  children  ;  you  are  com- 
paratively indifferent  to  the  indications 
of  piety.  Well,  then,  compare  your- 
selves with  Solomon,  Solomon  who 
was,  at  least,  better  fitted  than  any  of 
us  to  judge,  from  experience,  as  to 
what,  in  reality,  is  most  to  he  desired 
for  a  child.  It  may  help  to  give  a 
right  direction  to  your  wishes  and  en- 
deavors, in  the  important  matter  of 
education — teaching  you,  not  indeed  to 
neglect    the   culture   of  talent,    nor    to 


despise  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
but  to  make  every  thing  subordinate  to 
your  children  being  trained  to  remem- 
ber their  Creator  in  the  days  of  their 
youth — to  ponder  the  saying  of  Solo- 
mon, of  Solomon  the  opulent,  the 
mighty,  the  learned  ;  he  speaks  to  his 
child  with  all  earnestness,  and  with  all 
affectionateness  ;  he  urges  his  child  bv 
the  love  which  a  child  should  bear  to 
his  parent ;  but  he  does  not  say,  My 
son,  if  thou  become  rich,  if  thou  gain 
worldly  distinction,  if  thou  acquire  great 
store  of  knowledge,  then  you  will  make 
me  happy  ;  he  simply  (O  Christian  pa- 
rents strive  to  do  the  same)  but  patheti- 
cally, exclaims,  "  My  son,  if  thine  heart 
be  wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice,  even 
mine." 

Now  this  is  using  the  text  so  as  to 
make  it  furnish  an  admonition  to  pa- 
rents ;  it  was  addressed  however  to  a 
child,  and  we  ought  therefore  to  regard 
it  as  designed  especially  for  the  admo- 
nition of  children.  We  endeavored,  at 
the  outset  of  our  discourse,  to  make 
you  thoroughly  aware  of  there  being 
such  links  of  association  between  pa- 
rents and  their  children,  that  either 
consult  for  their  own  happiness  in  con- 
sulting for  that  of  the  other.  It  is  im- 
portant to  keep  this  in  mind ;  for  if  we 
now  follow  out  the  course  indicated  by 
the  text,  we  must  proceed  to  urge  chil- 
dren, by  their  love  for  their  parents, 
and  by  their  wish  to  gladden  their 
hearts,  to  aim  and  labor  at  the  acquiring 
true  piety.  But  let  not  children  think 
that  this  is  urging  them  to  make  them- 
selves miserable,  that  their  parents  may 
be  happy, — parents  made  happy  by  the 
misery  of  their  children  !  as  well  night 
caused  by  the  rising  of  the  sun.  Oh 
no,  my  dear  young  friends,  your  being 
religious  will  make  your  parents  happy; 
but  why?  because  they  know  that  else 
you  cannot  be  truly  happy  yourselves. 
You  will  indeed  contribute  to  their 
happiness,  if  they  themselves  know 
what  happiness  really  is;  but  you  will 
not  contribute  to  it  by  taking  from  your 
own  :  you  may  fancy  this  till  you 
make  the  experiment ;  but  make  it,  try 
whether  wisdom's  ways  be  not  ways  of 
pleasantness,  and  you  will  find  that 
fathers  and  mothers  were  but  urging 
you  to  be  happy  in  urging  you  to  be 
righteous,  that  they  were  but  entreating 
you  to  spare  yourselves  wretchedness, 


EDUCATION. 


.567 


when  telling  you  how  it  would  gladden 
them  to  know  you  wise  in  heart. 

And  we  speak  now  especially  to  those 
who  have  the  advantage  of  religious 
parents,  parents  who  endeavor  to  train 
them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition 
of  the  Lord, — an  advantage  not  always 
felt  at  the  time,  nay,  which  is  often 
regarded  as  an  inconvenience  and  re- 
straint ;  for  the  child  of  religious  parents 
will  sometimes  look  with  a  kind  of  envy 
on  the  child  of  more  worldly,  wishing 
for  as  much  indulgence,  or  as  little 
denial,  in  pleasures  and  pursuits  which 
solicit  the  senses.  But  the  advantage 
is  commonly  recognized  sooner  or  later; 
few,  who  have  been  religiously  brought 
up,  die  without  blessing  God  for  early 
instruction,  or  without  bitterly  bewailing 
their  having  despised  parental  admoni- 
tions. Mind  that,  my  young  friends; 
I  am  talking  to  you  now,  rather  than 
preaching ;  perhaps  you  think  it  rather 
hard  that  you  have  not  the  same  liberty 
which  you  see  some  others  have,  that 
you  are  kept  from  places  to  which 
others  go,  that  you  are  not  permitted 
to  mix  as  much  in  gay  and  dissipated 
scenes.  I  dare  say  you  sometimes  wish 
that  your  parents  were  not  quite  so 
strict;  but  you  will  live  to  feel  that 
your  parents  were  right ;  I  only  hope 
that  you  will  feel  it  before  it  is  too  late  : 
how  sad  to  find  that  you  were  taught 
the  right  way,  when  it  shall  no  longer 
be  in  your  power  to  turn  out  of  the 
wrong. 

But  now,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  as 
Solomon  spake  to  his  son :  I  would 
urge  and  persuade  you  to  try,  and  mind 
all  which  you  read  in  the  Bible,  assuring 
you  that  this  will  greatly  delight  your 
parents,  and  make  their  hearts  glad. 
I  would  not  speak  to  you,  if  I  thought 
you  did  not  care  about  pleasing  your 
parents ;  the  child  who  does  not  mind 
whether  lie  pleases,  or  vexes,  his  father 
and  mother,  must  be  a  very  wicked 
child  :  I  am  afraid  there  can  be  very 
little  use  in  talking  to  such  an  one ;  his 
heart  must  be  too  hard  to  be  touched 
by  my  words  :  there  will  be  need  of 
many  of  the  rough  blows  of  sorrow  and 
trouble  to  soften  a  child  who  is  not 
grieved  when  he  grieves  his  kind  pa- 
rents. But  I  am  speaking  now  to  chil- 
dren who  love  their  parents,  and  who 
wish  to  make  them  happy,  What  can 
you  do  to  make  them  happy  1     I  will 


tell  you;  try  as  much  as  ever  you  can 
to  do  your  duly  I. .winds  God.  You 
know  what  your  duty  towards  God  is  : 
you  are  taught  it  in' your  Catechism; 
there  you  learn  that 'one  part  of  this 
duty  is  to  call  upon  Cod;  that  means, 
praying  to  God:  but  praying  to  God 
is  something  more  than  saying  your 
prayers;  you  must  remember  u  hat  you 
are  about:  some  children,  whilst  they 
say  their  prayers,  think  about  their 
toys;  this  makes  God  angry,  and  if 
their  parents  knew  it,  this  would  make 
them  sad.  Then  again,  it  is  a  part  of 
your  duty  to  God  to  honor  his  holy 
name  and  word.  This  means  that  you 
are  to  have  a  great  respect  and  love 
for  the  Bible.  The  Bible,  you  know, 
is  God's  word :  God  told  good  men 
what  to  put  in  the  Bible ;  and  when, 
therefore,  you  read  the  Bible,  you 
should  remember  that  it  is  not  a  com- 
mon book,  that  you  are  reading  a  lesson 
from  God  Himself:  what  a  wicked 
thing  to  be  careless  and  inattentive, 
when  it  is  God  Himself  who  is  instruct- 
ing you.  And  you  are  further  taught  by 
the  Catechism,  that  your  duty  towards 
God  is  to  "  serve  Him  truly  all  the  days 
of  your  life."  It  is  very  difficult  to  serve 
God ;  but  the  earlier  you  begin,  the 
easier  it  will  be.  And  the  great  thing 
is  to  try  and  remember  that  God  always 
sees  you,  that  you  can  never  hide  any 
thing  from  God,  not  even  the  thoughts 
of  your  hearts.  This  will  make  you 
afraid  of  doing  what  you  know  to  be 
wrong.  Not  that  I  want  only  to  make 
you  afraid  of  God;  God  made  you  his 
children  when  you  were  baptized,  and 
He  wishes  you  to  love  Him,  even  as 
He  loves  you.  But  if  you  begin  with 
being  afraid  of  displeasing  Him,  you 
will  soon  come  to  the  being  desirous  of 
pleasing  Him;  you  will  read  in  the 
Bible  how  He  sent  his  dear  Son  Jesus 
Christ  to  die  for  sinners,  and  how  that 
blessed  Saviour  said,  "  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  me;"  and  all 
this  may  biing  you  to  the  loving  as  well 
as  the  fearing  God. 

And  it*  you  will  but  indeed  strive,  in 
such  simple  ways  as  these,  to  perform 
your  duty  towards  God,  you  will  rejoice 
the  hearts  of  your  parents;  the  very 
thing  which,  as  affectionate  children,  1 
am  sure  you  are  most  desirous  to  do. 
You  can  all  understand,  you  can  all  feel, 
this  motive  to  the  trying  to  serve  God. 


368 


EDUCATION. 


If  I  were  to  preach  to  you  about  the 
greatness  and  awfulness  of  God,  perhaps 
you  would  say,  we  hardly  know  what 
the  clergyman  means.  If  I  were  to  tell 
you  about  being  sick,  and  dying,  and 
being  buried,  perhaps  you  would  say 
that  it  was  a  dismal  sermon,  and  that  I 
only  tried  to  frighten  you,  and  make 
you  sad,  when  there  was  no  great  occa- 
sion. But  when  I  talk  to  you  of  trying 
to  make  your  parents  happy,  of  pleasing 
your  parents,  and  giving  them  joy,  you 
can  all  understand  that,  you  all  wish  to 
to  do  that.  Well  then,  dear  children, 
for  the  sake  of  your  parents,  try  to  do 
your  duty  towards  God.  If  they  are 
good  parents,  this  will  make  them  hap- 
pier than  any  thing  else  which  you  can 
do  ;  and  nothing  will  make  them  so  sad 
as  the  seeing  that  you  despise  or  dislike 
what  is  religious.  They  cannot  be  al- 
ways at  your  side  to  tell  you  this.  Per- 
haps they  may  soon  die,  and  leave  you 
orphans,  and  you  will  never  hear  then- 
kind  voices  again  as  long  as  you  live. 
But  you  may  be  sure  that,  whenever 
they  have  an  opportunity  of  expressing 
their  hopes  and  their  wishes,  of  inform- 
ing you  how  you  may  best  repay  all  the 
anxiety,  and  toil,  and  care,  which  you 
have  cost  them;  ah,  perhaps,  even  after 
their  death, — for  who  can  tell  that  dead 
parents  do  not  remember,  do  not  think 
upon,  their  children  ]  they  must  re- 
member, they  must  think  upon  them,  if 
there  be  any  remembrance,  any  thought, 
of  earthly  associations  ;  and  as  angels 
are  made  glad  by  the  repentance  of 
sinners,  may  not  the  spirits  of  departed 
fathers  and  mothers  rejoice  in  the  grow- 
ing piety  of  sons  and  of  daughters  % — 
but,  at  least,  dear  children,  be  assured 
that,  so  long  as  it  shall  be  possible  to 
give  pleasure  to  your  parents,  you.  will 
give  the  most  by  earnest  endeavors  to 
keep  God's  commandments  :  your  father 
says  to  you,  your  mother  says  to  you, 
"  My  child,  my  child,  if  thine  heart  be 
wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice,  even  mine." 
We  had  purposed  the  working  out 
in  greater  detail  the  principle  involved 
in  these  words  of  Solomon  ;  so  that  we 
might  have  set  under  other  points  of 
view  the  motive  to  the  serving  God,  de- 
rived from  the  satisfaction  thereby 
caused  to  parents  and  kinsmen.  We 
are  quite  aware  that  the  motive  may  be 
accused  of  coming  short  of  what  mo- 
tives should  be,  when  it  is  such  a  high 


duty  as  that  of  serving  God,  to  which 
we  would  incite  whether  the  young  or 
the  old.  But  religion  seeks  to  press 
into  its  employment  all  the  affections 
and  sensibilities  of  our  nature.  It 
makes  its  approaches  through  variety 
of  avenues  ;  and  we  do  very  wrong,  if, 
through  any  notion  of  lowering  religion, 
of  taking  off  from  its  dignity  and  royalty, 
we  keep  continually  placing  its  claims 
on  flie  most  elevated  grounds,  and  re- 
ject those  points  of  attack  which  are 
certainly  to  be  found  in  less  lofty  regions. 
It  may  have  a  better  sound  that  we 
should  launch  forth  at  once  on  the  obliga- 
tion to  serve  and  love  God,  considering 
Him  as  having  created  and  redeemed  us; 
that  we  should  introduce  nothing  sub- 
ordinate or  intermediate,  but  present 
Him,  distinctly  and  directly,  as  the 
being  on  whom  all  affections  must  cen- 
tre, and  to  whom  all  powers  must  be 
consecrated.  But  depend  on  it,  so  far 
as  children  especially  are  concerned, 
there  is  a  vagueness  and  indefiniteness 
in  this  sublime  presentation  of  Deity, 
which  will  operate  greatly  against  the 
setting  to  work  at  the  duties  of  religion. 
The  child  is  lost :  you  put  him  to  climb, 
and  give  him  no  ladder  to  climb  by ; 
he  cannot  follow  you  into  the  pure 
seraphic  region  where  you  would  have 
him  find  a  home  for  the  desires  of 
his  heart ;  and  whilst  the  young  affec- 
tions are  going  out,  in  their  freshness 
and  their  warmth,  towards  his  parents, 
it  will  perhaps  only  come  upon  him  as 
a  chilling  and  deadening  sound,  to  be 
told  of  a  great  invisible  Being,  whose 
word  is  to  be  his  law,  and  the  pleasing 
whom  his  end.  Why  not  then  strive  to 
take  advantage  of  the  workings  of  na- 
tural affection,  so  that,  as  God  has  un- 
doubtedly placed  the  parents  between 
Himself  and  the  child,  as  channels 
through  which  blessings  shall  be  convey- 
ed, the  child  may  be  led  through  the 
earthly  father  to  the  heavenly,  his  very 
love  for  those  who  gave  him  life  being 
used  for  the  raising  him  up  into  obedi- 
ence to  the  universal  Lord  1  This  is 
virtually  the  method  prescribed  in  the 
text ;  and  it  is  characterized,  as  we  be- 
lieve, by  profound  practical  wisdom. 
Solomon  simply  says  to  his  child,  "  You 
love  me  ;  then,  for  my  sake,  try  and 
serve  God."  He  does  not  say,  "  Serve 
God  for  his  own  sake,"  though  it  must 
have  been  to  this   that  he   wished  and 


EDUCATION. 


3G9 


purposed  ultimately  to  bring  the  child  ; 
but  he  took  advantage  of  the  affection 
which  was  then  in  full  play  ;  and  with- 
out attempting  to  give  it  any  wrench 
by  directing  that  it  be  turned  upon  an- 
other, leaving  it  in  all  its  gracefulness 
and  ardency,  he  merely  told  the  child 
how  he  might  best  prove  his  love,  and 
give  most  pleasure  to  its  object.  Oh, 
this  was  giving  a  hallowed  character  to 
domestic  charities  ;  this  was  consecrat- 
ing to  a  noble  purpose  the  sweet  emo- 
tions which  circulate  between  the  parent 
and  the  child  :  and  now  the  mother,  as 
she  sees  fondness  for  herself  beaming 
from  the  eyes  of  one  who  has  hung  upon 
her  breast,  has  no  need  to  feel,  alas  ! 
he  is  but  giving  me  the  love  which  he 
ought  to  give  to  God  :  she  may  rather 
be  glad  that  so  powerful  a  sentiment  is 
at  work,  affording  an  immediate  open- 
ing for  the  claims  of  religion  ;  and 
throwing  into  her  words  all  a  mother's 
pathos,  and  all  a  mother's  power,  she 
may  say  to  the  affectionate  child,  eager 
to  shew  his  affection,  "  My  child,  my 
child,  if  thine  heart  be  wise,  my  heart 
shall  rejoice,  even  mine." 

But  we  have  not  space  to  enlarge 
iturther  on  the  principle  in  question.  It 
must  suffice  that  we  have  thrown  out 
some  hints  which  may  assist  you  in 
making  use  of  the  natural  affections  to- 
wards the  training  up  of  your  children 
"  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord."  You  may  work  on  them  by 
their  love  for  yourselves,  when  what 
you  wish  to  produce  in  them  is  the  love 
of  God.  But  we  must  now  turn  to  the 
claims  of  the  National  Schools  of  this 
vast  town,  which  this  day  make  their 
annual  appeal  to  your  bounty.  The 
whole  tenor  of  our  discourse,  as  having 
had  reference  to  the  religious  education 
of  children,  will  have  prepared  you  to 
regard  with  favor  the  petition  of  an  in- 
stitution, whose  grand  object,  and  chief 
labor,  it  is,  to  impart  such  an  education 
to  numbers  who  might  otherwise  be  de- 
prived of  that  advantage.  You  will 
not  indeed  expect  that  I  can  have  any 
thing  new  to  tell  you  with  regard  to 
your  Schools  ;  their  best  praise  is,  that 
they  go  on  quietly  and  systematically 
in  the  old  beaten  path,  not  indeed  re- 
jecting such  improvements  and  additions 
as  may  have  been  suggested  or  demand- 
ed by  the  circumstances  of  the  times, 
but  holding  fast  by  the  truth  that  edu- 
vol.  II.  47 


cation  in  the  principles  of  the  Establish- 
ed Church  is  education  in  tin;  fear  of 
God,  in  loyalty,  in  virtue,  in  integrity, 
in  all  that  befits  a  man,  and  beseems  a 
Christian, — ay,  that,  in  spite  of  the  out- 
cries and  sneers  of  Sectarianism,  to  teach 
the  Church  Catechism  is  to  teach  pure 
Christianity,  to  train  in  Church  disci- 
pline is  to  train  for  immortality. 

We  are  forced  to  say  as  much  as  this 
in  regard  of  the  National  system,  so 
nobly  defended  and  developed  in  Liver- 
pool, yea,  defended  even  by  the  more 
enlightened  Dissenters ;  for  from  the 
one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  have 
been  heard  invectives  against  education 
according  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church, 
as  though  it  would  be  to  contaminate 
the  people,  to  diffuse  amongst  them 
sentiments  subversive  of  their  best  in- 
terests here  and  hereafter,  were  there 
any  such  measures  for  general  instruc- 
tion as  should  even  remotely  involve  the 
ascendancy  of  the  Church  as  the  au- 
thorized teacher.  Be  it  so  :  we  know 
which  system  has  produced  most  of 
practical  religion;  we  know  where  there 
is  to  be  found  most  of  that  obedience  to 
law,  that  patient  industry,  that  quiet 
endurance  of  tribulation,  that  beautiful 
discharge  of  social  duties,  and  that  im- 
plicit reliance  on  the  promises  of 
Scripture,  which,  if  they  do  not  fit  the 
poor  to  be  the  tools  of  demagogues,  and 
the  puppets  of  faction,  at  least  make 
them  the  safeguards  of  a  state,  the 
glory  of  a  Christian  community.  But 
there  is  wisdom,  there  is  policy,  in  de- 
termined resistance  to  the  entrusting  the 
Church  with  the  education  of  the  poor. 
Her  enemies  justly  judge  that  there  is  no 
such  effectual  way  of  attacking  the 
Church,  as  the  withdrawing  from  her  su- 
perintendence the  masses  of  the  rising 
generation.  They  would  make  her,  if 
they  could,  the  rich  man's  Church,  know- 
ing that  fall  she  must,  as  fall  she  ought, 
though  fall  she  shall  not,  if  she  cease  to 
be  the  poor  man's  Church.  Fall,  we 
said,  the  Church  shall  not,  not,  at  least, 
through  ceasing  to  be  the  poor  man's 
Church.  For  if  the  legislature,  hamper- 
ed by  the  conflicting  interests  of  parties, 
can  do  little  towards  strengthening  the 
Church  in  the  great  work  of  parochial 
education,  the  members  of  that  Church 
will  only  feel  themselves  the  more  call- 
ed on  to  come  forward  with  liberal 
assistance. 


37'J 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


Our  text  contains  the  principle  of 
Church  education,  and  Churchmen  will 
rally  round  institutions  where  such 
principle  is  recognized.  "My  son,  if 
thine  heart  be  wise,"  not,  "if  thine 
head."  It  has  been  a  thousand  times 
said,  it  will  never  be  disproved,  that 
education  without  religion  is  not  a  bless- 
ing, but  a  curse.  The  enlightened 
philanthropist  is  not  to  be  gladdened  by 
the  diffusion  of  merely  intellectual  edu- 
cation. He  does  not  want  a  more 
knowing  people,  except  as  it  shall  be 
also  a  more  godly.  He  deprecates  the 
giving  power  separate  from  the  princi- 
ple which  insures  its  right  use.  His 
speech,  therefore,  is,  "If  thine  heart  be 
wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice,  even  mine." 
Do  then  your  part  with  the  same  liber- 
ality with  which  you  have  hitherto 
done  it.  Support  as  Churchmen,  I  will 
venture  to  say  as  Englishmen,  the 
schools  which  now  ask  your  succor,  and 
which,  from  their  very  constitution, 
pledge  themselves  to  the  maintenance 
of  Church  principles.  Show  by  your 
subscriptions  that  the  Church  is  eager 
to  discharge  her  office  in  regard  of  the 
instruction  of  the  poor,  that  her  con- 
science prompts  to  patient  efforts  and 


plenteous  sacrifices,  and  will  not  let  her 
children  rest,  except  as  they  do  their 
utmost  towards  implanting  the  fear  of 
God  in  the  rising  generation.  Thus 
will  you  be  accumulating  the  material 
of  a  righteous  gladness.  You  may  yet 
live  to  see  signs  of  moral  verdure  on  the 
waste  places  of  our  land.  Your  heart 
shall  rejoice,  even  yours. 

This  vast  emporium  of  commerce, 
which  has  this  day  been  seen  in  its 
glory, — for  that  glory  is  not  so  much  its 
throng  of  traders,  or  the  forests  of  masts 
from  its  magnificent  docks,  as  the 
lengthened  procession  of  the  thousands 
whom  it  is  training  up  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord, — this  vast  emporium  then  of 
commerce,  already  an  example  to  Eng- 
land by  its  vigorous  support  of  Bible 
education,  may  increasingly  exhibit,  in 
its  glorious  prosperity,  how  true  it  is  that 
those  who  honor  Him,  the  Almighty 
will  honor.  Foremost  in  the  endeavor 
to  make  wise  the  heart  of  English  youth, 
you  may  bequeath  to  children,  and  to 
children's  children,  that  blessing  of  the 
Lord  which  "maketh  rich,"  and  to 
which,  O  blessed  portion,  He  "  addeth 
no  sorrow." 


SERMON   XIV 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


1  Their  rock  is  not  as  our  Rock,  even  our  enemies  themselves  being  judges." — Deuteronomt  xxxii.  31. 


You  are  all  aware  that  something  like 
suspicion  attaches  to  evidence  which 
proceeds  from  the  friends  of  a  cause, 
and  that  the  circumstance  of  a  party 
having  a  direct  interest  in  what  he  af- 

*  Preached  on  Trinity  Sunday,  at  St.  Bride's- 
Fleet-street,  on  behalf  of  the  London  Fever 
Hospital. 


firms  often  causes  his  affirmation  to  be 
received  with  some  degrees  of  allow- 
ance. We  cannot  deny  that  our  incli- 
nations exert  great  influence  over  the 
judgment,  so  that  even  where  there  is 
no  wish  to  exaggerate  or  misrepresent, 
undue  weight  will  be  given  to  the  side 
which  we  are  anxious  to  uphold.     And 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


371 


it  must  equally  bo  admitted)  that  when 
once  we  have  engaged  in  the  defence 
of  a  cause,  many  motives  will  combine 
to  the  keeping  us  firm  ;  and  the  likeli- 
hood is  far  from  inconsiderable,  that 
aversion  to  the  owning  ourselves  wrong 
will  have  as  much  sway  as  the  con- 
sciousness that  we  are  right. 

It  is  partially  thus  in  respect  of  the 
evidences  of  Christianity.  The  evan- 
gelists and  apostles,  on  whose  testimony 
we  mainly  rest  the  truth  of  our  religion, 
were  unquestionably  men  who  had  so 
embarked  themselves  in  the  cause  of 
Christianity,  that  they  might  be  consid- 
ered as  pledged  to  maintain  it  at  what- 
ever hazard.  Their  learning  was  so 
much  to  its  side,  that  they  might  be 
suspected  of  a  bias  which  incapacitated 
them  from  the  exercise  of  a  sound  judg- 
ment, and  rendered  their  decisions  at 
the  least  unsatisfactory.  And  certainly 
if  it  had  been  vastly  for  the  interest  of 
evangelists  and  apostles  that  they  should 
adhere  stedfastly  to  Christianity,  there 
might  have  been  fair  ground  for  thus 
impugning  their  testimony.  But,  af- 
ter all,  unless  men  have  something  to 
lose  by  confessing  themselves  in  the 
wrong,  we  are  hardly  warranted  in  ex- 
pecting any  singular  obstinacy.  In- 
deed, we  have  already  admitted  that 
reluctance  to  acknowledge  error  will  do 
much  towards  producing  constancy  ;  so 
that  a  man  might  probably  forego  some 
advantage,  and  endure  some  incon- 
venience, rather  than  retract  opinions 
once  advanced.  But  if  we  carry  our 
suppositions  further,  so  as  to  bring  them 
up  to  the  case  of  the  first  publishers  of 
our  faith;  if  we  attach  to  the  main- 
tenance of  opinions  the  loss  of  all  that 
is  held  dear  by  men — reputation,  and 
friends,  and  property,  and  life — then, 
indeed,  there  seems  no  ground  for  the 
impeachment  of  testimony  ;  it  is  nothing 
to  urge  that  the  evidence  is  that  of  in- 
terested parties,  when  all  that  can  be 
called  their  interests  would  have  been 
consulted  by  abandoning  their  opinions, 
had  they  known  them  to  be  false. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  rescue 
the  Gospel  histories  from  a  suspicion 
which  may  be  cast  on  them  as  the  work 
of  writers  who  were  biassed  to  the  side 
they  support.  We  admit  generally  that 
the  evidence  of  the  warm  friends  of  a 
cause  must  be  received  with  some  cau- 
tion :  their  partiality  may  have  exerted 


an  influence  on  their  judgment,  and  facts 
may  have  been  exaggerated  by  the 
medium  through  which  they  arc  viewed. 
We  admit  also,  that  the  having  onee 
avouched  an  opinion  may  produce  de- 
termination to  maintain  it,  even  when 
men  have  become  doubtful  of  its  truth, 
and  must  in  a  degree  be  injured  by  up- 
holding it.  But  we  cannot  allow  that 
these  admissions  at  all  involve  a  sus- 
picion as  to  the  veracity  of  evangelists. 
Evangelists  had  every  thing  to  Ljive  up, 
and  nothing  to  gain,  if  they  persisted  in 
publishing  Christianity  ;  and  we  know 
not  what  but  honesty  of  purpose,  and  a 
full  conviction  that  they  pleaded  for 
truth,  could  have  led  them  to  brave 
shame,  and  poverty,  and  martyrdom, 
rather  than  retract  what  they  had  once 
boldly  advanced. 

But  whilst  we  would  thus  contend 
that  nothing  can  be  fairly  urged  against 
the  testimony  of  evangelists,  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  the  testimony  of  inter- 
ested parties,  we  recur  to  our  original 
position,  and  allow  generally  that  the 
evidence  of  the  friends  of  a  cause  is  not 
of  the  same  worth  as  that  of  its  enemies. 
We  receive  the  evidence  of  the  friends 
with  caution,  because  it  is  quite  possible 
that  their  prejudices  in  its  favor  may 
have  led  to  their  magnifying  facts  and 
making  light  of  objections.  But  when 
the  evidence  of  enemies  is  in  favor  of  a 
cause,  we  feel  that  we  may  receive  it 
without  the  least  hesitation — the  enmity 
is  our  warrant  that  it  would  have  been 
kept  back,  had  it  not  been  irresistible, 
and  that,  in  place  of  being  exaggerated, 
the  almost  certainty  is  that  it  has  been 
reduced  to  the  least  possible  strength. 
On  these  accounts  we  reckon  the  testi- 
mony of  Judas  Iscariot  to  the  truth  of 
Christianity  more  than  commonly  valua- 
ble, because,  however  suspicious  you 
may  be  of  the  evidence  of  Peter  and 
John,  men  who  had  attached  themselves 
devotedly  to  Christ,  you  cannot  look 
with  the  same  doubtfulness  on  that  of 
an  apostate  who  sold  his  Lord  for  a 
paltry  bribe.  We  need  hardly  observe, 
that  much  of  direct  testimony  in  sup- 
port of  a  cause  is  hardly  to  be  looked 
for  from  its  enemies.  There  is  incon- 
sistency between  the  suppositions  of 
men  being  the  opponents  of  a  system 
and  explicit  witnesses  to  its  truth. 
When,  however,  there  is  no  direct  evi- 
dence, there  may  be  indirect;  and  an 


372 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


adversary  may  unconsciously  and  un- 
wittingly furnish  support  more  valuable 
than  we  gain  from  an  advocate.  Now 
our  thoughts  are  on  this  Sunday  especial- 
ly turned  by  our  Church  on  that  great 
mystery  of  our  faith,  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity.  We  may  say  of  this  doctrine, 
as  generally  of  Christianity,  that  if  we 
could  find  it  in  any  way  attested  by 
enemies,  there  would  be  a  worth  in  the 
attestation  which  belongs  not  to  that  of 
its  most  earnest  friends.  We  must  also 
say  that  direct  attestation  is  not  to  be 
expected,  or,  to  speak  more  truly,  is 
impossible  ;  for  no  man  who  disbelieves 
or  denies  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  can, 
whilst  numbered  amongst  its  opponents, 
bear  open  testimony  to  its  truth.  But 
it  is  quite  supposable  that  there  may  be 
indirect  ways  in  which  adversaries  give 
a  witness;  and  if  such  can  be  found, 
then  all  which  has  been  said  on  the 
worth  of  their  evidence  should  lead  us 
to  its  diligent  investigation.  We  cannot, 
however,  apply  ourselves  to  this  search, 
until  we  have  more  opened  the  subject 
of  discourse  presented  by  our  text. 

The  words  which  we  have  read  to 
you  occur  in  that  song  which  Moses 
wrote  in  a  book,  and  "  spake  in  the 
ears  of  all  the  congregation  of  Israel," 
just  before  he  ascended  the  mountain 
on  which  he  was  to  die.  The  great 
lawgiver,  forbidden  to  enter  the  pro- 
mised land,  takes  a  leave  the  most 
affectionate  of  those  whom  he  had  led 
through  the  wilderness,  and  bequeaths 
as  his  best  legacy,  exhortations  to  sted- 
fastness  in  obeying  Jehovah.  There 
were  gathered  within  the  range  of  his 
vision  the  future  fortunes  of  Israel; 
and  he  alternately  rejoiced  and  lamented 
as  with  prophetic  gaze  he  marked  the 
advancement  and  depression  of  God's 
chosen  people.  He  well  knew  that  the 
Almighty  had  so  separated  Israel  for 
Himself,  and  had  so  appointed  the  seed 
of  Abraham  to  greatness  and  sover- 
eignty, that  nothing  but  their  own  way- 
wardness and  rebellion  could  interfere 
with  their  prosperity  and  happiness. 
And  therefore  when  he  observed  how 
the  imagery  of  disaster  crowded  the 
yet  distant  scenes,  he  brake  into  the 
exclamation,  "  How  should  one  chase 
a  thousand,  and  two  put  ten  thousand 
to  flight,  except  their  rock  had  sold 
them,  and  the  Lord  had  shut  them  up  1 " 
He  saw  that  in  place  of  carrying  them- 


selves successfully  in  the  battle,  the 
Israelites  would  yield  to  an  inconsider- 
able force,  and  multitudes  be  discom- 
fited by  a  handful  of  opponents.  Why 
was  this,  unless  because  wickedness 
had  provoked  God  to  withdraw  his 
protection  and  his  strength  1  Was  it 
that  the  false  deities  of  the  heathen  were 
mightier  than  the  Jehovah  of  Israel,  and 
therefore  ensured  that  victory  should 
be  on  the  side  of  their  worshippers  ? 
Indeed  the  very  adversaries  themselves 
would  not  advance  such  assertion.  They 
knew  and  they  confessed  that  their 
sources  of  strength  were  inferior  to 
those  to  which  the  Israelites  might  ap- 
ply ;  and  would  not,  therefore,  them- 
selves refer  their  success  to  the  greater 
prowess  of  the  power  they  adored. 
"  Their  rock  is  not  as  our  rock,  even 
our  enemies  themselves  being  judges." 
And  well,  then,  might  the  lawgiver, 
whilst  on  the  point  of  being  gathered  to 
his  fathers,  expostulate  indignantly  with 
Israel  on  the  madness  of  that  idolatry 
into  which  he  foresaw  they  would  run. 
Their  very  enemies  acknowledged  that 
there  was  no  rock  like  Jehovah,  and 
yet  the  rock  of  these  enemies  would  be 
preferred  by  them  to  their  own. 

Now  it  is  a  very  remarkable  assertion 
which  is  thus  made  by  Moses,  affirming 
that  we  may  obtain  that  testimony  from 
a  foe,  which,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  we  should  have  expected  only 
from  a  friend.  We  can  hardly  recon- 
cile the  facts,  that  the  enemies  of  the 
Israelites  acknowledged  the  superior 
strength  of  their  rock,  and  yet  continued 
to  adhere  to  another  and  a  weaker. 
But  even  these  facts  are  not  necessarily 
inconsistent.  One  idolatrous  nation 
might  believe  that  another  served  a 
mightier  deity,  and  yet  not  attempt  to 
substitute  that  deity  for  its  own.  The 
deity  might  be  regarded  as  national, 
and  no  more  to  be  changed  than  the 
climate  or  the  soil.  "  Hath  a  nation 
changed  their  gods  which  are  yet  no 
gods  ] "  is  the  expostulation  of  Jehovah 
with  Israel,  when  reproaching  them,  by 
the  mouth  of  Jeremiah,  with  their  in- 
constancy and  apostasy.  And  therefore 
it  is  not  indispensable  that  we  suppose 
the  testimony  of  idolaters,  to  which 
Moses  refers,  to  have  been  exclusively 
indirect.  Indeed  there  are  not  wanting 
instances  in  Scripture  of  what  may  be 
reckoned    direct  testimony.     The  Ca- 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


373 


naanites,  for  example,  had  heard  what 
God  had  done  in  Egypt;  and  Rahab's 
declaration  to  the  two  spies,  who  had 
come  to  spy  out  Jericho,  was,  "  As 
soon  as  we  heard  these  things,  our 
hearts  did  melt,  neither  did  there  remain 
any  more  courage  in  any  man  because 
of  you  ;  for  the  Lord  your  God,  he  is 
God  in  heaven  above,  and  in  earth 
beneath."  Here,  the  Canaanites  them- 
selves being  judges,  their  rock  was  not 
as  the  rock  of  Israel ;  for  they  had  no 
confidence  that  their  gods  would  shield 
them  against  the  power  of  Jehovah. 
In  like  manner,  when,  in  the  days  of 
Eli,  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the 
Lord  was  brought  into  the  camp  of 
Israel,  the  Philistines  were  sore  afraid, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Woe  unto  us !  who 
shall  deliver  us  out  of  the  hand  of  these 
mighty  gods]"  They  probably  regard- 
ed the  ark  in  the  light  of  an  idol;  and 
they  frankly  owned  that  they  dared  not 
expect  that  their  deities  would  prove 
as  strong  as  those  of  the  enemy.  We 
may  add  that  both  Nebuchadnezzar 
and  Darius,  awed  by  demonstrations  of 
the  might  of  Jehovah,  published  decrees 
which  recognized  his  supremacy,  and 
which  clearly  showed  that,  themselves 
being  judge?,  their  rock  was  not  as  that 
of  their  captives,  the  Jews.  These  are 
perhaps  instances  of  what  may  be  called 
direct  testimony  on  the  part  of  idolaters 
to  the  superiority  of  Jehovah  over  all 
which  they  worshipped  as  God.  But 
probably  it  is  not  to  direct  testimony 
that  Moses  refers.  He  may  only  have 
intended  to  assert  that  Jehovah  had 
given  such  demonstrations  of  supremacy 
as  should  have  carried  conviction  to  the 
servants  of  false  gods.  And  when  you 
remember  what  had  been  done  in  the 
leading  Israel  from  Egypt — the  plagues 
which  had  overthrown  their  enemies, 
the  dividing  of  the  waters,  the  miracles 
in  the  wilderness — you  must  admit  that 
all  who  heard  what  the  Lord  had  effect- 
ed on  behalf  of  his  people,  were  so  fur- 
nished with  proofs  of  his  pre-eminence, 
that,  themselves  being  judges,  He  ought 
to  have  been  acknowledged  as  the  alone 
true  God. 

But  it  is  unnecessary  that  we  search 
further  into  the  bearings  of  our  text  as 
originally  delivered.  There  is  nothing, 
«o  far  as  we  can  see,  to  confine  the 
passage  to  the  time  when  it  was  uttered 
— the  lawgiver   is   gathering    all    ages 


into  his   last  words;    and 


we  may  sup- 


pose therefore  that  this  testimony  of 
enemies  is  to  be  found  at  out;  period  as 
well  as  at  another.  We  come  down 
then  at  once  to  our  own  day  and  gene- 
ration, and,  confronting  all  those  by 
whom  Christianity  is  opposed,  would 
know  whether  it  be  not  demonstrable 
that  "  their  rock  is  not  as  our  rock,  even 
our  enemies  themselves  being  judges?" 
We  shall  not  appeal  to  the  writings  of 
adversaries,  because  direct  testimony  is 
almost  excluded  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  case.  It  is  not  indeed  difficult  to 
produce  from  the  works  of  men  who 
never  embraced  Christianity,  evidences 
of  its  truth,  and  acknowledgments  of  its 
power  on  the  lives  of  its  professors, 
which  go  to  prove  this  religion  superior, 
in  its  claims  and  its  influence,  to  every 
other  system  which  has  prevailed  upon 
earth.  It  is  well  known  that  heathen 
historians  strikingly  corroborate  the  re- 
cords of  evangelists,  and  that  they  speak, 
in  the  largest  and  most  unqualified 
terms,  of  the  virtues  of  the  early  fol- 
lowers of  Christ.  And  it  were  easy  to 
arrange  these  admissions  into  something 
of  a  demonstration  that,  in  the  judg- 
ment of  the  adversary,  however  un- 
conscious he  might  be  of  passing  such 
judgment,  there  was  a  truth  and  a 
strength  in  Christianity  which  placed  it 
far  above  all  idolatrous  systems.  But 
this  line  of  argument  would  not  conduct 
to  much  that  is  practically  important; 
neither  would  it  have  any  bearing  on 
the  doctrine  which  is  this  day  com- 
mended to  our  special  attention.  We 
therefore  limit  our  inquiry  to  testimony 
which  is  altogether  indirect,  given  with- 
out design,  but  not  with  the  less  force. 
We  regard  as  emphatically  the  enemies 
of  Christianity,  those  who  absolutely 
reject  Revelation,  and  those  who,  pro- 
fessedly receiving  it,  explain  away  its 
chief  mysteries.  The  first  is  the  Deist, 
who  will  have  nothing  but  what  he  is 
pleased  to  call  natural  religion,  and 
who  denies  that  God  hath  made  any 
disclosures  to  his  creatures  but  what 
are  graven  on  the  visible  universe,  or 
on  the  tablet  of  conscience.  The  second 
is  the  philosophizing  Christian,  whether 
he  style  himself  the  Avian,  or  the  So- 
cinian,  or  the  Unitarian,  who  in  some 
way  or  another  impugns  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity,  and  therefore  removes 
from  the  Bible  the  great  truth   of  ar. 


374 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


atonement  for  sin.  These,  we  say,  are 
the  chief  enemies  of  Christianity ;  and 
it  is  from  these  we  are  to  seek  a  testi- 
mony to  the  excellence  of  that  creed 
which  we  ourselves  profess  to  have 
adopted.  And,  therefore,  through  the 
remainder  of  our  discourse,  there  will 
be  two  great  truths  at  whose  illustration 
we  must  labor — the  first,  that  the  rock 
of  the  Deist  is  not  as  our  rock,  the 
Deist  himself  being  judge  ;  the  second, 
that  the  rock  of  the  Unitarian  is  not  as 
our  rock,  the  Unitarian  himself  being 
judge. 

Now  we  shall  begin  with  an  argu- 
ment which  is  applicable  to  every  species 
of  infidelity,  whether  it  take  the  form  of 
a  total  or  of  only  a  partial  rejection  of 
Scripture.  We  are  well  aware  that 
various  causes  may  be  popularly  assign- 
ed for  a  man's  adoption  whether  of 
Deism  or  Socinianism,  and  that  he  may 
be  declared  quite  candid  and  honest  in 
his  disbelief  of  Christianity  or  its  funda- 
mental doctrines.  There  are  not  want- 
ing advocates  of  a  sentiment  which  we 
hold  to  be  itself  nothing  better  than  in- 
fidel, the  sentiment  that  a  man  is  not 
answerable  for  his  creed.  But  we  are 
sure,  in  opposition  to  all  this  spurious 
liberality,  that  God  hath  made  truth  so 
accessible  to  every  fair  and  right-mind- 
ed inquirer,  that  there  is  no  possibility 
of  its  eluding  his  search.  We  are  sure 
that  the  evidences  for  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity are  so  numerous  and  decisive, 
and  the  statements  of*  doctrine  so  clear 
and  explicit,  that  there  can  be  no  such 
thing  as  unavoidable  Deism,  no  such 
thing  as  unavoidable  Socinianism.  We 
must  express  to  you  our  conviction,  that 
the  source  of  infidelity  is  exclusively  in 
the  heart  ;  and  that,  however  sincere  a 
man  may  seem  in  his  pursuit  after  truth, 
it  is  through  nothing  but  a  wish  to  be 
deceived  that  he  is  at  last  landed  in 
error.  We  know  not  how  any  one  who 
ascribes  to  God  the  attributes  which 
belong  essentially  to  his  nature,  can 
uphold  an  opposite  opinion  ;  for  unless 
it  be  conceded  that  God  has  so  revealed 
his  will  as  to  make  it  our  own  fault  if 
we  continue  in  ignorance,  there  is  man- 
ifestly no  place  for  human  accountable- 
ness  and  the  processes  of  judgment. 
And  therefore  are  we  persuaded — and 
it  is  not  a  seeming  want  of  charity 
which  can  induce  us  to  keep  back  the 
persuasion — that  pride   and   dislike  to 


the  high  morality  of  the  Gospel  are  in 
the  main  the  producing  causes  of  in- 
fidelity. Who  thinks  that  there  would 
be  any  thing  approaching  to  rejection 
of  Christianity,  if  it  were  a  system 
which  at  all  flattered  our  pride,  or 
showed  indulgence  to  our  passions  ? 
We  should  have  no  Deism,  if  the  con- 
tents of  Revelation  were  not  designed  to 
humble  us,  and  produce  self-denial ;  we 
should  have  no  Socinianism,  if  the  doc- 
trine of  a  Trinity  in  Unity  demanded 
not  the  unqualified  submission  of  our 
reason.  But  it  ought  to  be  evident  that 
no  religious  system  would  be  adapted 
to  our  nature  and  condition,  which  did 
not  set  itself  vigorously  against  our  pride 
and  our  passions.  It  ought  to  be  evi- 
dent that  without  some  great  moral  reno- 
vation, a  thorough  change  in  the  dis- 
positions and  tendencies  with  which  we 
are  born,  we  cannot  be  fitted  for  inter- 
course with  such  a  Being  as  God  must 
necessarily  be,  nor  for  the  enjoyment  of 
such  happiness  as  can  alone  be  looked 
for  as  his  gift  to  his  creatures.  It 
ought,  therefore,  to  commend  itself  to 
us  as  an  incontrovertible  truth,  that 
Christianity  is  worthy  our  credence  and 
our  veneration,  in  exact  proportion  as 
it  tends  to  the  production  of  humility 
and  of  holiness.  And  if  in  any  way,  whe- 
ther direct  or  indirect,  there  be  put 
forth  a  confession  that  Christianity  is 
more  adapted  than  some  other  system 
to  the  subduing  the  haughtiness  and 
corruptions  of  our  nature,  we  may  affirm 
of  such  confession  that  it  amounts  to  a 
direct  testimony  to  the  superiority  of 
our  religion. 

But  we  maintain  that  this  very  con- 
fession is  furnished  by  the  rejection  of 
Christianity.  We  find  the  causes  of 
rejection  in  the  humiliating  and  sancti- 
fying tendencies  of  the  religion.  We 
trace  Deism  and  Socinianism,  and  under 
these  every  form  of  infidelity,  to  a 
cherished  dislike  to  truth  which  de- 
mands the  subjugation  of  self,  and  the 
prostration  of  reason.  What,  then,  does 
the  rejection  prove,  but  that  the  em- 
braced system  is  more  complacent  to 
pride  and  more  indulgent  to  passion  1 
And  if  it  prove  this,  it  is  itself  nothing 
less  than  a  testimony  on  the  side  of 
Christianity.  It  is  an  acknowledgment 
that  Christianity  is  better  fitted  than  the 
spurious  faith  by  which  it  is  superseded 
for  the  beating  down  those  lofty  imagi- 


THE  TESTIMONY'  OF  ENEMIES. 


37j 


nations,  and  eradicating  those  unright- 
eous propensities,  which  must  be  sub- 
dued and  uprooted  ere  there  can  be 
hope  of  admission  into  the  purity  and  the 
blessedness  of  heaven.  It  is,  therefore, 
a  declaration, — ay,  and  a  more  open 
and  direct  could  not  be  more  emphatic 
— that  if  regard  be  had  to  the  moral 
wants  of  humanity,  to  the  circumstances 
under  which  we  are  placed,  and  to  the 
renewal  of  which  we  are  palpably  in 
need,  then  the  religious  system  opened 
up  to  us  by  the  Gospel  is  of  incompara- 
bly greater  worth  than  any  which  men 
propose  to  substitute  in  its  stead.  Oh, 
it  is  no  argument  to  me,  but  altogether 
the  reverse,  against  the  truth,  whether 
of  Christianity  in  general,  or  of  its 
peculiar  doctrines,  that  many  in  every 
age  have  rejected  Revelation  or  ex- 
plained away  its  mysteries.  I  would 
know  something  of  the  causes  which 
have  generated  Deism  and  Unitarian- 
ism  :  and  the  more  I  search,  the  more 
is  the  conviction  forced  on  me  that  the 
Bible  is  repudiated  because  at  war  with 
all  that  man  naturally  loves,  and  its  dis- 
tinguishing doctrines  denied  because 
requiring  that  reason  submit  to  God's 
Word.  And  if  I  am  not  wrong  in  this 
conviction — and  I  can  be  wrong  only  if 
God  may  be  charged  with  the  ignorance 
and  the  sin  of  his  creatures — why  what 
is  the  Deist  and  what  the  Unitarian  but 
a  witness  to  me  of  the  worth  of  Chris- 
tianity ]  Rejected  or  mutilated  be- 
cause diametrically  opposed  to  pride  or 
to  passion,  the  rejection  or  the  mutila- 
tion undeniably  proves  that  what  is 
substituted  for  genuine  Christianity  is 
less  adapted  to  our  moral  necessities. 
And  therefore  it  is  not  to  the  martyr 
alone,  dying  rather  than  cast  away  his 
faith,  that  I  appeal  for  evidence  to  the 
superiority  of  our  rock.  It  is  not  to 
those  who  have  made  trial  of  this  rock, 
and  who  building  thereupon  have  reared 
structures  which  the  tempest  could  not 
shake,  and  which,  as  they  rose,  have 
been  more  fitted  for  the  indwellings  of 
Deity.  We  can  challenge  the  very  ad- 
versaries to  bear  testimony.  We  can 
wring  a  witness  to  the  superiority  of 
Christianity  as  an  engine  adapted  to  the 
exigences  of  a  disorganized  creation, 
from  the  secret  yet  discernible  reasons 
which  cause  a  land  to  be  deformed  by 
many.shapes  of  infidelity.  Oh,  knowing 
that  these  reasons  have  to  do  with  the 


humiliating  and  sanctifying  tendencies 
of  the  religion  of  Jesus,  and  that  con- 
sequently what  is  substituted  for  this 
religion  must  less  tend  to  bumble,  and 
less  tend  to  sanctify,  and,  therefore,  be 
less  fitted  for  such  beings  as  ourselves, 
we  can  triumphantly  look  our  opponents 
in  the  face,  and  unflinchingly  declare 
that  "their  rock  is  not  as  our  rock,  even 
our  enemies  themselves  being  judges." 
But  in  this  argument  we  have  asso- 
ciated the  several  kinds  of  infidelity, 
and  derived  the  evidence  of  which  we 
are  in  search  from  Unitarianism  as  well 
as  from  Deism.  But  we  would  now 
confine  ourselves  to  the  case  of  the 
Deist;  and  we  think  it  a  fair  way  of 
forcing  from  him  evidence  as  to  the 
worth  of  Revelation,  to  require  that  he 
compare  the  state  of  a  Christian  nation 
with  that  o'f  a  heathen.  If  he  be  right 
in  contending  that  there  has  been  no 
Revelation,  and  that  men  need  no  Re- 
velation, but  that  reason  is  sufficient  as 
a  guide  and  instructor,  he  cannot  object 
to  our  trying  his  theory  by  the  test  of 
experience,  and  appeal  to  undeniable 
facts.  We -draw,  then,  a  contrast  be- 
tween what  was  effected  towards  the 
amelioration  of  human  condition  whilst 
heathenism  had  the  world  to  itself,  and 
what  has  been  done  since  Christianity 
gained  partial  sway.  We  will  take  the 
most  favorable  exhibition  which  an- 
cient records  furnish,  where  an  empire 
extended  itself  over  half  the  globe, 
where  arts  flourished  in  their  fullest 
efflorescence,  where  poetry  was  in  all 
its  harmony,  and  philosophy  in  all  its 
vigor.  And  would  any  man  desire  to 
be  transported  back  nineteen  centuries, 
that  he  might  be  the  citizen  of  a  country 
which  had  thus  reached  the  summit  of 
renown,  whose  monuments  are  still  our 
studies,  and  from  whose  ruins  we  yet 
gather  the  models  of  our  sculpture  and 
ouit  architecture  1  We  are  sure  that, 
whatever  differences  of  opinion  there 
may  be  as  to  the  cause,  there  must  be 
universal  agreement  as  to  the  fact,  that 
in  all  which  gives  real  dignity  to  a  state, 
in  the  defining  and  defending  genuine 
liberty,  in  all  which  tends  to  promote 
and  uphold  public  prosperity,  and  to 
secure  peace  and  happiness  to  the 
families  of  a  land,  there  is  no  compari- 
son between  the  advances  made  whilst 
reason  was  man's  only  instructor,  and 
those  which  may  be  traced  since  reason 


376 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES, 


had  tlie  aids  of  a  professed  Revelation. 
We  are  not  afraid  to  refer  it  to  the 
decision  of  the  most  inveterate  opponent 
of  Christianity,  whether  civilization  has 
not  advanced  with  a  most  rapid  march 
wheresoever  the  Gospel  has  gained 
footing;  and  whether  the  institutions 
of  a  country  professedly  Christian  could 
be  exchanged  for  those  of  the  most 
renowned  in  heathen  times,  without  the 
loss  of  what  we  hold  dearest  in  our 
charter,  and  the  surrender  of  what  sheds 
their  best  beauty  round  our  homes  1 
We  have  never  heard  of  so  thorough 
and  consistent  an  advocate  of  the  suf- 
ficiencies of  reason,  that  he  would  eon- 
tend  for  the  superior  civilization,  the 
finer  jurisprudence,  the  greater  civil 
liberty,  the  purer  domestic  happiness, 
attained  to  whilst  reason  was  not  inter- 
fered with  by  communications  which 
avouch  themselves  from  God.  We  are 
bold  to  affirm  that  he  who  is  most 
strenuous  in  opposing  Christianity,  and 
most  vehement  in  decrying  it,  thinks  it 
fortunate  for  himself  that  he  has  been 
born  in  Christian  times  and  a  Christian 
land.  And  this  is  enough  to  enable  us 
to  extort  from  him  a  testimony  to  the 
superiority  of  our  rock.  He  may  refuse 
to  give  us  a  testimony  ;  but,  whether  he 
will  or  no,  it  is  furnished  by  his  own 
admissions.  We  only  ask  whether  he 
prefers  what  reason  achieved  by  herself 
to  what  has  been  achieved  since  the 
coming  of  Christ;  and  knowing  what 
his  answer  must  be,  we  know  also  that 
he  is  a  witness  to  the  worth  of  Christi- 
anity. We  know  what  his  answer  must 
be.  We  know  that  he  would  be  ashamed 
to  .wish  the  restoration  of  the  worship 
of  a  thousand  impure  and  fabled  deities. 
We  know  that  he  would  not  dare  to 
uphold  the  advantages  of  being  ignorant 
whether  or  not  the  soul  were  immortal. 
We  know  that  he  could  not  decide  that 
there  was  as  much  protection  for  pro- 
perty, as  staunch  a  guardianship  of  the 
helpless,  as  equable  a  distribution  of 
justice,  as  active  a  benevolence  towards 
the  suffering  and  the  destitute,  as  general 
a  diffusion  of  respectability  and  happi- 
ness, whilst  the  world  was  left  to  its 
own  strength  and  wisdom,  as  now  that 
a  religion  has  been  introduced  which 
professes  to  rest  on  immediate  Reve- 
lation. 

And  this  is  enough  to  warrant   our 
claiming  him  as  a  witness  to  the  superi- 


ority of  our  rock.  He  may  imagine 
other  reasons  by  which  to  explain  the 
advancement  which  he  cannot  deny. 
He  may  pretend  to  assign  causes  which 
account  for  the  improvement,  and  which 
are  wholly  independent  on  Christianity. 
But  we  contend  that  in  the  possession 
of  Christianity  alone  lies  the  difference 
between  ourselves  and  the  nations  whom 
we  have  vastly  outstripped.  We  do 
not  excel  them  in  the  fire  of  genius, 
and  the  vigor  of  intellect ;  for  even  now 
they  are  our  teachers  in  the  melody  of 
verse,  and  in  the  strictness  of  reasoning, 
and  in  the  mightiness  of  oratory ;  and 
we  sit  at  their  feet  when  we  would 
learn  to  be  mentally  great.  We  dare 
not  affirm  that  reason,  by  herself,  could 
ever  achieve  more  than  she  achieved  in 
Greece  or  in  Rome — for  we  are  still 
but  the  pupils  of  the  dead  sages  of  these 
ancient  states;  we  light  our  torch  at 
their  inextinguishable  lamps,  and,  if 
ever  we  rival  their  literature,  we  pre- 
sume not  to  think  that  we  ever  surpass. 
And  therefore  does  the  assertion  seem 
every  way  correct,  that  we  should  never 
have  stood  higher  than  they  in  all  those 
respects  in  which,  confessedly,  they  are 
immeasurably  distanced,  had  we  not 
been  blessed  with  the  revelation  of  the 
Gospel.  The  world  had  gone  as  far  as 
it  was  possible  for  it  to  go  with  no  guide 
but  reason,  and  then  Christ  appeared 
to  show  how  inconsiderable  the  pro- 
gress had  been.  We  challenge  then 
the  rejecter  of  Revelation.  We  sum- 
mon him  as  a  witness  on  the  side  of 
that  which  he  openly  denies.  We  have 
bis  confession — he  cannot  keep  back  his 
confession — that,  wheresoever  Christi- 
anity has  prevailed,  there  has  been  a 
rapid  advance  in  all  that  gives  fixedness 
to  government,  sacredness  to  every  do- 
mestic relationship,  and  therefore  hap- 
piness to  households.  And  this  is  virtu- 
ally a  confession,  however  he  may  seek 
out  some  subterfuge,  that  natural  re- 
ligion is  vastly  inferior  to  revealed  as 
an  engine  for  heightening  the  morals, 
and  improving  the  condition  of  human- 
kind ;  that  the  guidance  of  reason  alone 
is  in  no  degree  comparable  to  that  of 
Revelation,  when  the  ends  proposed 
are  those  which  are  eagerly  sought  by 
every  foe  of  evil,  and  every  friend  of 
man — and  oh,  then,  is  it  not  a  confession 
which  warrants  us  in  affirming,  when 
opposing  such  as  reject  the  Gospel  of 


THE  TESTIMONY  OP  ENEMIES. 


377 


Christ,  that  "  their  rock  is  not  as  our 
rock,  even  our  enemies  themselves  being 
judges  V 

But  we  are  aware  that  in  this  last 
argument  we  have  not  taken  the  highest 
ground  which  we  are  entitled  to  occupy. 
We  have  striven  to  show  you  that  an 
acknowledgment  may  be  wrung  from 
the  Deist  to  the  worth  of  Christianity, 
considered  in  regard  of  its  power  to 
promote  the  well-being  of  society.  But 
this  is  not  the  most  important  point  of 
view  under  which  we  have  to  consider 
Christianity.  The  excellence  of  a  re- 
ligion should  be  tried  by  its  power  of 
preparing  man  for  death.  It  is  in  direct- 
ing us  how  to  provide  for  the  future 
that  a  religious  system  is  valuable;  and 
though  it  may  confer  collateral  benefits, 
and  improve  the  temporal  condition  of 
a  people,  we  can  form  no  estimate  of 
its  worth  as  a  religion,  until  we  have 
examined  it  as  a  guide  to  immortality. 
And  if  Deism  and  Christianity  are  to 
be  compared  on  a  death-bed,  we  shall 
readily  gain  the  testimony  which  is 
asserted  in  our  text.  We  cannot  fully 
apprehend  what  it  is  to  put  away  Re- 
velation, and  cast  one's  self  on  the  re- 
sources of  reason,  until  we  have  brought 
principles  to  the  last  hour  of  life,  and 
determined  what  power  they  have  of 
sustaining  man  in  the  throes  of  dissolu- 
tion. It  is  then,  when  all  which  may 
have  cheered  us  on  in  a  career  of  pride 
and  misdoing  is  being  rapidly  with- 
drawn, and  the  soul  feels  that  she  must 
go  forth  in  her  solitariness,  and  abide 
the  searchings  of  judgment,  that  the 
worth  of  a  religious  creed  must  be  tried 
— and  worse  than  vain  is  that  depend- 
ence which  fails  us  in  this  extremity, 
worse  than  useless  a  system  which  gives 
way  when  we  most  need  support.  And 
without  denying  that  Christians,  for  the 
most  part,  live  far  below  their  privi- 
leges, so  that  the  hour  of  death  is  not 
regarded  with  that  composure  and  con- 
fidence which  should  follow  on  the 
knowledge  that  the  last  enemy  will  be 
swallowed  up  in  victory,  we  may  safely 
declare  that  nothing  can  be  compared 
to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  when  triumph 
over  the  grave  is  the  respect  in  which 
comparison  is  instituted.  Our  appeal 
is  to  known  matters  of  fact ;  it  is  not 
by  argument  that  we  can  make  good 
this  point.  It  will  not  then  be  denied 
that  persons  of  every  age,  and  of  every 
VOL.  II. 


rank  in  life,  are  continually  meeting 
death  with  ralmness,  and  even  with  joy 
— the  principles  of  Christianity  being 
those  by  which  they  are  sustained,  and 
its  hopes  those  by  which  they  are  ani- 
mated. And  as  little  can  it  be  contro- 
verted that  the  disciples  of  Deism  shrink 
from  dissolution,  and  that  never  are 
their  death-beds  such  as  a  spectator 
would  desire  for  his  own.  We  admit 
that  Deists  have  died  with  apparent 
unconcern ;  but  as  it  was  with  our  two 
great  historians,  Gibbon  and  Hume,  their 
very  eagerness  to  occupy  themselves 
with  something  trifling  and  frivolous, 
has  proved  incontestably  a  restlessness 
at  heart,  and  betrayed  an  anxiety  to 
drown  serious  thought.  In  attempting 
to  play  the  hero,  they  have  played  the 
buffoon.  And,  in  other  cases,  in  what 
agony,  and  with  what  remorse,  have 
the  disciples  of  infidelity  crossed  the 
border-line  of  eternity.  There  are  few 
histories  more  thrilling,  or  fuller  of 
horror,  than  those  of  the  last  hours  of 
Paine  or  Voltaire.  And  where  there 
has  been  neither  affected  indifference, 
nor  excruciating  dread,  we  are  not 
afraid  to  declare  that  there  has  been 
nothing  which  approached  to  tranquil- 
lity or  gladness.  Men  may  have  gone 
hence  without  betraying  any  particular 
emotions.  "  The  wicked,"  saith  the 
Psalmist,  "  have  no  bands  in  their 
death;"  and  those  who  have  gone  the 
fearful  lengths  of  denying  Christ,  and 
rejecting  Revelation,  may  sink  into  an 
apathy,  and  exhibit  such  blunted  sensi- 
bilities, as  shall  pass  with  those  around 
for  peace  and  composedness. 

But  where  have  been  the  beamings, 
the  flashings,  of  hope  and  exultation  ] 
Where  the  boundings  of  the  spirit, 
elastic  with  immortality,  as  angel  forms 
have  seemed  to  beckon  it,  and  the  street 
of  gold,  and  the  tree  of  life,  to  break 
on  its  vision1?  Where  the  palpable 
mastery  over  death,  the  holy  defiance 
of  all  the  powers  of  dissolution,  the 
vivid  anticipations  of  happiness,  the 
affectionate  exhortations  to  survivors, 
that  they  tread  the  same  path,  the  whis- 
pered assurance  that  there  shall  be  re- 
union in  a  bright  world,  where  the 
"  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest1?"  Oh,  we  shall  wait 
in  vain  to  have  these  produced  from  the 
death-bed  of  the  Deist.  We  are  willing 
that   the  records   of  Deism  should  be 


378 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


searched ;  but  we  are  confident  that  not  i 
an  instance  can  be  found  in  which  the 
dying  unbeliever  could  exclaim  with 
rapture  or  with  serenity,  "  O  death, 
where  is  thy  sting  1  O  grave,  where  is 
thy  victory  1 "  And,  therefore,  is  the 
Deist  a  witness  to  the  worth  of  Christi- 
anity. Therefore  do  we  appeal  to  him 
in  evidence  that  the  religion  of  reason 
is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  religion 
of  revelation.  He  may  boast  the  mas- 
siveness  and  solidity  of  his  rock ;  and 
he  may  depreciate  the  strength,  and 
attempt  to  undermine  the  foundations, 
of  ours.  But  we  will  make  proof  of 
the  two  rocks,  and  examine  how  they 
stand,  whilst  the  earthly  house  of  this 
tabernacle  is  being  taken  down  by  death. 
We  observe  that  he  who  has  builded 
on  the  rock  of  Christianity  meets  the 
destroyer  with  confidence,  and  is  mani- 
festly a  conqueror  at  the  very  moment 
of  being  conquered.  But  he  who  has 
builded  on  the  rock,  if  such  it  may  be 
called,  of  Deism,  has  nothing  with  which 
to  oppose  death  but  an  unbecoming 
levity,  or  a  stupid  indifference ;  and  if 
not  aghast  with  terror,  is  void  of  all  hope. 
A.nd  this  is  not  supposition.  This  is  no 
inference  of  our  own,  which  the  Deist 
may  controvert  by  argument.  Our  ap- 
peal is  exclusively  to  registered  facts. 
Our  challenge  is  to  the  Deist  himself, 
to  the  Deist  in  his  last  struggle,  when 
he  has  little  temptation,  and  less  power, 
to  deliver  a  false  testimony.  And,  oh, 
if  after  we  have  depicted  to  our  adver- 
saries the  beautiful  brightness  which 
adorns  the  evening  of  a  righteous  life, 
and  told  them  of  the  holy  boldness  with 
which  the  naturally  timid  advance  into 
eternity,  and  shown  how  the  chamber 
in  which  the  Christian  breathes  out  his 
soul  is  a  privileged  place,  a  place  where 
we  have  visible  proof  that  death  is 
abolished,  a  place  where,  if  tears  be 
shed,  they  are  quickly  dried  up,  as  by 
a  supernatural  radiance,  a  place  whence 
bequeathments  of  hope  and  of  comfort 
are  sent  to  every  part  of  a  bereaved 
family,  or  a  sorrowing  neighborhood  ; 
oh  !  we  say,  if,  after  this,  our  adversaries 
have  nothing  on  their  side  to  display 
but  a  chilling  apathy,  or  an  assumed 
indifference,  or  the  desperate  anguish 
of  a  storm-tossed  spirit,  have  we  not 
right  to  class  these  very  adversaries 
themselves  amongst  the  advocates  of 
our  cause  ]    have  we  not  warranty  for 


declaring,  when  Deists  practically  con- 
fess, by  the  way  they  meet  death,  that 
the  rock  on  which  they  build  is  breaking 
into  shivers,  that  "  their  rock  is  not  as 
our  rock,  even  our  enemies  themselves 
being  judges'?  " 

Now  we  consider  that  much,  if  not 
all,  of  this  latter  reasoning  is  as  applica- 
ble in  the  case  of  the  Unitiarian,  as  in 
that  of  the^Deist.  We  believe  that 
where  there  has  been  rejection  of  the 
fundamental  doctrine  of  Christianity, 
the  doctrine  of  an  atonement  for  sin, 
there  is  never  any  of  that  calmness  and 
confidence  in  dying,  which  may  con- 
tinually be  seen  where  the  trust  rests  on 
the  great  propitiation.  And  the  rock 
of  the  Unitarian  is  not  as  our  rock,  the 
Unitarian  himself  being  judge,  if  the 
man  who  thinks  to  be  his  own  peace- 
maker with  God,  can  exhibit  none  of 
that  assurance,  when  passing  into  eter- 
nity, which  the  very  weakest  possess 
who  know  that  their  sins  have  been  laid 
upon  a  surety. 

But  we  have  other  ways  in  which  to 
make  good  this,  the  second,  position, 
into  which  our  text  was  resolved.  We 
would  observe  that  the  mystery  of  our 
faith,  against  which  the  Unitarian  spe- 
cifically sets  himself,  and  on  which  our 
Church  now  directs  us  to  turn  your  at- 
tention, is  beyond  question  an  unfathom- 
able depth — the  union  of  three  persons 
in  one  essence  being  utterly  incompre- 
hensible by  our  own,  and  indeed  proba- 
bly by  any  finite,  intelligence.  But 
with  every  admission  of  the  greatness 
of  the  mystery,  we  feel  it  our  duty 
to  warn  you  against  the  distinguish- 
ing mystery  of  the  Trinity  from  other 
mysteries  in  the  Godhead,  as  though  it 
were  more  stupendous,  or  less  to  be 
understood.  We  would  always  oppose 
ourselves  to  the  making  such  distinc- 
tion, as  we  would  to  the  advocacy  of 
fatal  error.  It  is  just  here  that  the  Uni- 
tarian stumbles  ;  and  having  attempted 
to  separate  between  mysteries  all  equal- 
ly inexplicable,  is  presently  involved  in 
avast  labyrinth  of  falsehood.  You  can 
no  more  comprehend  how  God  can  be 
every  where,  than  how  God  can  be  three 
in  one.  The  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
omnipresence  baffles  our  reason  to  the 
full  as  much  as  the  doctrine  of  a  Trinity 
in  Unity.  I  cannot  conceive  how 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  each  by 
Himself  God,  each  equally  possessing 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


379 


all  the  incommunicable  properties  of  the 
Divine  nature,  should  yet  together  con- 
stitute the  one  eternal  indivisible  Jeho- 
vah. But  neither  can  I  conceive  how, 
at  the  same  moment,  a  being  can  be 
present,  in  all  his  integrity  and  all  his 
supremacy,  in  this  our  scene  of  assem- 
bling, and  in  the  furthest  corners  of  im- 
mensity. Is  it  more  of  a  mystery,  that 
three  should  be  so  combined  into  one 
that  there  is  distinction  and  yet  unity, 
than  that  one  should  be  so  universally 
diffused,  and  yet  so  entirely  circum- 
scribed, that  He  is  now  by  my  side  in 
all  his  magnificent  attributes,  and  yet 
equally  on  every  star  which  is  walking 
the  firmament,  and  equally  with  every 
creature  throughout  the  sweep  of  un- 
limited space  1  We  may  make  the 
same  assertion  of  other  properties  of 
£)eity.  Once  introduce  the  rule  that  we 
are  not  to  admit  what  overpasses  reason, 
and  we  can  have  no  Creator  but  a  crea- 
ture. The  eternity  of  our  Maker,  that 
He  is  from  everlasting  and  to  everlast- 
ing;  his  omniscience,  that  "all  things 
are  naked,  and  opened  unto  the  eyes  of 
him  with  whom  we  have  to  do  ; "  his 
omnipotence,  that  "he  spake,  and  it  was 
done;  he  commanded,  and  it  stood 
fast;"  I  have  no  faculties  with  which 
to  comprehend  any  one  of  these  pro- 
perties :  the  more  I  meditate,  the  more 
am  I  confounded  ;  and  after  every  at- 
tempt to  find  out  God,  I  can  but  pro- 
nounce Him  one  mighty  mystery,  to  be 
adored  in  all  respects,  and  scrutinized 
in  none. 

Now  if  the  principle  on  which  the 
Unitarian  proceeds  in  rejecting  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity,  be  thus  a  principle  j 
which  equally  requires  that  we  deny  to 
Godhead  whatever  distinguishes  it  from 
finite  subsistence,  we  hold  that,  by  the 
decision  of  the  Unitarian  himself,  his 
rock  is  not  as  our  rock.  The  Unitarian 
himself  being  judge,  reason  is  to  pre- 
scribe the  limits  of  faith,  and  we  are  to 
receive  nothing  but  what  we  can  com- 
prehend. Then,  we  contend,  the  Uni- 
tarian himself  being  judge,  we  are  to 
worship  a  God  who  is  not  omniscient, 
and  not  everlasting,  and  not  omnipresent. 
We  guide  ourselves  by  the  judgment  of 
the  Unitarian.  He  gives  as  an  instance 
of  the  application  of  his  rule,  the  exclu- 
sion from  our  creeds  of  the  doctrince 
that  there  are  three  persons  in  the  God- 
head.    Then  of  course  in  the  judgment 


of  the  Unitarian,  we  are  to  exclude 
whatever  is  as  incomprehensible  as  this 
doctrine.  Whal  then  are  we  to  do 
with  the  doctrine  that  God  is  equally 
every  where  1  wlmt  with  that  of  his 
having  had  no  beginning  1  These  are 
at  the  least  as  much  above  reason  as  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  though  of  none 
of  them  can  you  show  that  it  is  contrary 
to  reason.  So  that,  proceeding  upon 
nothing  but  the  verdict  of  the  I  Imtarian, 
and  following  out  implicitly  his  decision, 
we  represent  to  ourselves  a  Deity  in 
whom  indeed  is  no  mystery,  but  in 
whom  therefore  is  no  divinity.  And  if 
it  be  by  simplv  obeying  the  rule  laid 
down  by  the  Unitarian,  that  we  thus 
imagine  a  being  on  the  throne  of  the 
universe,  with  none  of  those  properties 
which  belong  essentially  to  Godhead, 
why,  we  must  be  warranted  in  declaring 
that  the  Unitarian,  if  consistent  with  his 
own  principles,  must  adore  as  supreme 
one  who  wants  the  characteristics  of 
supremacy,  and  who  cannot  therefore 
deliver;  and  that  consequently,  "his 
rock  is  not  as  our  rock,"  the  Unitarian 
himself  "  being  judge." 

But  there  is  yet  another  mode  in 
which  the  Unitarian  attests  the  su- 
periority of  our  rock.  We  would  re- 
mind you  of  the  importance  of  regard- 
ing the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  as  a 
practical  doctrine.  Men  are  apt  to  con- 
sider it  a  matter  of  abstruse  speculation, 
and  fail  to  observe  how  the  whole  of  the 
peculiar  system  of  Christianity  stands 
or  falls  with  this  mystery.  And  hence 
they  are  offended  at  what  they  count 
the  harshness  of  the  Athanasian  Creed; 
just  as  though  the  points  in  debate  were 
points  on  which  men  might  innocently 
differ.  But,  of  course,  if  you  deny  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  you  deny  also 
the  doctrine  of  the  divinity  of  Christ; 
so  that  the  great  matter  at  issue  bet  ween 
ourselves  and  the  Unitarian  is,  whether 
Jesus  the  Mediator  were  God,  or  only 
man.  And  on  the  decision  of  this 
question  hangs  the  decision  of  another, 
and  that  the  most  practically  interesting 
which  can  be  agitated  amongst  men, 
whether  the  Gospel  be  merely  a  system 
of  purer  morality,  and  loftier  sanctions, 
than  had  before  obtained  upon  earth, 
or  whether  it  be  asystem  of  supernatural 
helps,  of  a  real  atonement  for  sin,  and 
I  of  the  vicarious  obedience  of  a  surety. 
Unless  Christ  be  God,  it  is  certain  that 


3S0 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


He  can  have  made  no  expiation  for  the 
guilt  of  humankind,  and  that  He  can 
have  merited  nothing  on  our  behalf. 
He  may  have  taught  many  noble  truths, 
He  may  have  raised  the  standard  of 
morals,  He  may  have  brought  the  re- 
wards and  punishments  of  another  life 
to  bear  on  the  duties  of  the  present,  He 
may  have  set  a  marvellous  example  of 
purity,  and  benevolence,  and  patience, 
and  confirmed  his  doctrines  by  his  death  ; 
but  He  can  have  effected  no  change  in 
our  moral  position  before  God  :  He 
cannot,  by  the  sacrifice  of  Himself,  have 
taken  away  the  sin  of  the  world  ;  He 
cannot  have  "redeemed  us  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse 
for  us."  So  that,  when  he  has  rejected 
the  doctrine  of  a  Trinity  of  persons  in 
the  Godhead,  the  Unitarian,  if  consis- 
tent with  himself,  must  reject  every 
doctrine  which  is  peculiar  to  Christian- 
ity, and  reduce  the  Gospel  into  little 
better  than  an  authoritative  republica- 
tion of  religion.  The  Unitarian  must, 
of  necessity,  look  to  be  saved  by  his  re- 
pentance and  obedience :  having  no  con- 
fidence in  the  merits  of  another,  his 
whole  dependence  must  be  on  his  own. 
Now  we  are  not  about  to  show  what 
we  may  suppose  you  all  readily  ac- 
knowledge, the  vast  inferiority  of  the 
Unitarian  system  to  the  orthodox,  when 
the  two  are  compared  in  their  adapta- 
tion to  the  wants  of  such  creatures  as 
ourselves.  This  were  an  easy  task  ; 
but  it  is  not  this  which  is  set  us  by  our 
text.  It  is  not  the  superior  strength  of 
our  rock  which  we  have  to  demonstrate, 
but  the  fact  that  the  enemy  himself  is  a 
witness  to  that  superior  strength.  And 
this  we  attempt  by  the  following  simple 
reasoning.  The  Unitarian  looks  to  be 
saved  by  repentance  and  obedience,  no 
respect  being  had  to  the  merits  of  a 
Mediator.  Now  repentance  and  obedi- 
ence are  an  important  part  of  our  sys- 
tem, as  well  as  of  that  of  the  Unitarian. 
We  hold,  as  well  as  he,  that  no  man 
can  be  saved,  unless  he  repent  and  do 
works  meet  for  repentance.  And  it 
were  absurd  to  say  that  the  motive  to 
good  living  is  not,  at  the  least,  as  strong 
to  those  who  trust  in  Christ,  as  to  those 
who  trust  in  themselves.  It  is  a  truth, 
attested  by  the  experience  of  the  Church 
in  all  ages,  that  no  principle  is  so  influ- 
ential on  the  conduct  as  that  of  faith  in 
the  Saviour.     So  that  our  system  em- 


braces all  which  that  of  the  Unitarian 
embraces ;  whilst  it  adds  doctrines  which, 
if  true,  cannot  be  omitted  without  ruin, 
and  which,  if  false,  serve  only  to  strength- 
en us  in  that  holiness  on  which  our  ac- 
ceptance is  to  rest.  If,  then,  the  Uni- 
tarian be  right,  he  has  no  advantage 
over  us  —  repentance  and  obedience 
being  presented  at  least  equally  under 
both  systems.  But  if  the  Unitarian  be 
wrong,  we  have  unspeakably  the  advan- 
tage over  him  ;  we  have  a  Surety  in 
whose  perfect  satisfaction  to  find  refuge, 
when  the  worthlessness  of  all  that  man 
can  effect  for  himself  is  being  proved 
before  the  Judge  of  quick  and  of  dead. 
If  we  err  in  acknowledging  the  Deity 
in  Christ,  and  considering  his  death  a 
sacrifice  for  sin,  the  error  must  be  inno- 
cent ;  for  with  the  mass  of  men  it  is 
unavoidable — the  language  of  Scripture 
being  apparently  so  strong  and  so  ex- 
plicit on  these  points,  that  the  generality 
of  persons,  who  are  not  great  scholars 
and  not  fine  critics,  can  attach  to  it  no 
meaning,  but  that  Jesus  is  God,  and  that 
He  died  as  the  substitute  of  sinners.  It 
cannot,  therefore,  be  for  our  injury  that 
we  honor  Christ  as  Divine,  and  regard 
his  death  as  propitiatory,  inasmuch  as 
the  Bible  is  so  written  that  opposite 
conclusions  can  be  reached  only  by 
processes  which  lie  out  of  reach  of  the 
great  body  of  men.  And  what,  then, 
has  the  Unitarian  to  say  of  our  rock, 
except  that  it  is  stronger  than  his  own  1 
He  would  tell  us  that  we  need  nothing 
but  repentance  and  obedience,  in  order 
to  the  gaining  favor  with  God  :  and  we 
bring  to  our  Maker  the  offering  of  re- 
pentance and  obedience,  though  we  are 
not  bold  enough  to  think  that  it  can  be 
of  worth  enough  to  procure  us  reward. 
He  would  tell  us  that  we  are  to  look  to 
Christ  Jesus  only  as  a  pattern  :  and  we 
feel  it  bound  on  us  as  a  most  solemn 
duty  to  take  the  Saviour  as  our  example, 
though  we  add  to  this  the  taking  Him 
as  our  propitiation.  He  would  tell  us 
that  there  is  mercy  with  our  Creator 
for  creatures  who  are  compassed  with 
infirmities  :  and  we  too  rest  all  hope  on 
the  mercy  of  the  Most  High,  though  we 
feel  it  also  necessary  that  his  justice 
should  be  satisfied.  He  would  tell  us 
that  there  is  a  moral  energy  in  our  na- 
ture, by  which  men  may  subjugate  their 
lusts  and  live  righteously  and  godly  : 
and  we  know  it  our  business  to   work 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


381 


iut  salvation,  and  strive  for  the  mastery, 
though  we  reckon  all  the  while  on  the 
assistances  of  a  Person  of  the  ever-Mes- 
sed Trinity.  And  when,  therefore,  we 
try  the  strength  of  our  rock  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Unitarian  himself,  we 
prove  it  incontestable  stronger  than  his. 
The  Unitarian  shall  be  judge.  The 
Unitarian  shall  state  the  grounds  on 
which  immortal  beings  like  ourselves 
may  safely  rest  our  hope  that  the  com- 
ing eternity  shall  not  be  one  of  anguish. 
Repentance,  good  works,  the  imitation 
of  Christ,  the  known  mercy  of  God — if 
he  advance  these,  we  go  along  with  him 
in  constructing  a  rock  on  which  to  rest. 
We.  too,  hold  that  the  ceasing  to  do  evil, 
the  learning  to  do  well,  the  following 
Jesus,  the  appeal  to  Divine  compassions, 
are  modes  in  which  the  wrath  of  the 
ever-living  God  is  to  be  turned  away 
from  those  who  are  born  under  con- 
demnation. And  if,  therefore,  the  rock 
of  the  Unitarian  is  a  firm  rock,  ours  is 
as  firm,  for  the  same  elements  of  strength, 
and  in  at  least  the  same  degree,  enter 
into  both. 

But  this  is  nothing.  We  are  not  con- 
tent with  a  confession  of  equality  ;  we 
6eek  one  of  superiority.  And  it  cannot 
be  kept  back.  We  only  add  to  the  Uni- 
tarian's rock  what,  on  his  own  princi- 
ples, may  amazingly  strengthen  it,  and 
on  no  supposition  can  weaken.  He 
rests  on  righteousness,  and  we  add  a 
righteousness  in  which  there  cannot  be 
a  flaw.  He  rests  on  mercy  as  inclining 
towards  the  weak,  and  we  add  a  cove- 
nant by  which  mercy  is  unalterably 
pledged.  He  rests  on  repentance,  as 
though  it  made  amends  for  transgres- 
sion, and  we  add  an  atonement  which 
has  removed  human  guiltiness.  He 
rests  on  native  energy  as  that  through 
which  every  duty  may  be  performed, 
and  we  add  a  superhuman  might  which 
can  in  no  case  be  deficient.  What  then  1 
We  have  but  accumulated  on  his  rock, 
and  that  too  in  an  unmeasured  degree, 
those  very  elements  of  solidity  which, 
himself  being  judge,  must  be  found  in 
the  basis  on  which  men  build  for  eter- 
nity. And  if  it  should  be  proved  at  last 
that  all  thus  accumulated  is  worthless, 
and  must  be  swept  away,  there  will  yet 
remain  a  rock  as  firm  as  his  :  whereas, 
if  it  should  be  proved  that  all  this  is 
necessary,  he  will  be  without  a  resting- 
place  amid  the  convulsions  of  the  judg- 


ment. On  wliosr  side,  then,  is  the  ml 
vantage  ?  Our  rock,  examined  by  his 
own  tests,  cannot,  on  any  supposition, 

prove  weaker  than  his  ;'  whereas  his* 
if  he  be  wrong  in  his  theory,  will  be 
found  as  the  Band,  whilst  ours,  like  the 
adamant,  is  immoveable,  infrangible. 
Oh,  then,  if  making  trial  of  the  respec- 
tive grounds  of  confidence  on  the  vert 
principles  of  the  Unitarian  himself,  es- 
timating relative  strength  on  the  suppo- 
sition that,  what  the  Unitarian  calls 
strength  actually  is  strength,  it  appears 
that  we  cannot  be  hereafter  in  a  worse 
position  than  the  Unitarian,  but  that 
the  Unitarian  may  be  in  one  immeasur- 
ably more  insecure  than  ours. 'Ives  ■ 
why,  is  it  not  the  verdict  of  our  very 
adversary  himself,  that  there  is  not  the 
certain  fixedness  in  his  foundation  which 
there  is  in  ours  ]  and  are  we  exagger- 
ating the  testimony  which  deniers  of 
the  Trinity,  unconsciously  it  may  be, 
but  yet  powerfully  furnish,  when  We 
affirm  that  "  their  rock  is  not  as  our 
rock,  even  our  enemies  themselves  being 
judges  ]" 

But  there  is  yet  one  more  illustration 
which  ought  to  be  given  of  our  text. 
We  have  been  engaged  in  showing  how 
arguments  in  favor  of  Christianity  may 
be  wrested  from  our  adversaries ;  it 
behooves  us  to  take  heed  that  argu- 
ments against  it  be  not  derivable  from 
ourselves.  We  gain  the  best  of  the 
former  from  the  tacit  confession  of  more 
sanctifying  doctrine;  and  we  may  fur- 
nish the  latter  by  the  open  demonstra- 
tion of  unsanctified  lives.  If  we  would 
prove  the  rock  of  the  enemy  unlike  our 
rock,  even  on  the  testimony  of  the  ene- 
my himself,  let  us  see  to  it  that  we 
build  on  that  rock  so  noble  a  superstruc- 
ture, a  superstructure  of  good  works, 
that  the  very  adversary  shall  he  forced 
to  confess  the  superiority  of  the  doctrine 
from  the  superiority  of  the  fruits.  We 
can  challenge  the  heathen  of  old  times, 
and  force  him  to  confess  our  rock  the 
best  :  for  he  never  reared  the  hospital, 
the  asylum,  the  infirmary,  whilst  Chris- 
tianity has  covered  the  earth  with  struc- 
tures for  the  sick  and  afflicted.  But 
we  are  not  content  with  the  witness  of 
the  heathen;  we  want  that  of  erefj 
adversary  of  truth  ;  and  we  now  appeal 
to  you  for  additional  evidence,  that  there 
is  nothing  like  orthodox  doctrine  foi 
producing  a  liberal  care  of  the  Buffering 


382 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  ENEMIES. 


And  never  were  you  solicited  for 
your  bounty  in  a  case  more  urgent  than 
the  present.  The  lever  Hospital — 
the  name  explains  the  institution  :  but 
I  might  speak  to  you  for  an  hour,  and 
not  compass  half  the  reasons  why  you 
should  give  in  large  measure.  In  this 
densely  populated  metropolis,  fever 
often  rages  to  a  fearful  extent,  and  as- 
sumes  a  most  malignant  type.  If  our 
great  hospitals  do  not  feel  it  indispensa- 
ble to  close  their  doors  against  patients 
on  whom  fever  has  seized,  yet  the  dis- 
ease is  of  such  a  nature,  that  there 
ought  confessedly,  in  the  hope  of  arrest- 
ing contagion,  to  be  a  separate  estab- 
lishment for  the  reception  of  the  suffer- 
ers. And  therefore  was  the  London 
Fever  Hospital  erected,  its  wards  being 
open  to  those  only  who  are  afflicted  with 
some  form  of  the  disease  which  the  de- 
finition includes.  But  what  is  this  hos- 
pital able  to  effect  ]  in  what  degree  does 
it  meet  the  demand  for  such  an  institu- 
tion 1  Alas,  alas  !  its  officers  have  been 
unwearied,  its  attendants  have  caught 
the  fever  and  died  by  the  side  of  those 
to  whom  they  ministered;  but  the  public 
has  been  scanty  in  supplying  adequate 
funds ;  and  it  is  quite  frightful  to  hear 
how,  during  the  past  year  for  example, 
the  resources  of  the  hospital  proved 
insufficient  for  the  wants  of  the  sick. 
Sometimes  there  have  been  a  dozen 
applicants  for  the  first  vacant  bed — 
and  these  applicants  with  the  parched 
tongue,  and  the  rapid  pulse,  and  the 
burning,  beating  brow.  Often  when  the 
bed  has  become  vacant,  it  has  been 
found  that  several  of  the  applicants  had 
died  during  the  interim.  Perhaps  they 
might  have  been  saved  by  timely  suc- 
cor: but  the  uncooled  fire  scorched  and 
scathed  them ;  and  they  were  hurried 
into  another  world,  to  give  testimony 
how  Christians  were  showing  love  to 
God.  In  some  cases,  the  patient  has 
expired  before  the  bed  could  be  pre- 
pared ;  and  in  five  instances,  when  the 
vehicle  in  which  the  patient  had  been  I 
removed  from   his  dwelling   arrived  at  I 


the  gate  of  the  hospital,  alas  !  he  asked 
no  bed  but  the  grave,  for  life  was 
already  extinct.  There,  Englishmen, 
there,  Christians,  is  this  a  state  of  things 
which  you  will  permit  to  continue? 
Why,  if  it  were  merely  a  regard  foi 
public  and  personal  safety  which  actu- 
ated us,  we  ought  to  v  interfere.  We 
are  leaving  the  metropolis  open  to  a 
plague,  we  are  exposing  our  own  house- 
holds to  the  most  terrible  disease,  whilst 
we  suffer  our  courts  and  alleys  to  be 
infested  with  fever,  and  take  no  ade- 
quate measures  for  arresting  its  pro- 
gress. 

But  I  wave  this  argument :  I  am  ask- 
ing for  demonstration  of  the  superiority 
of  our  rock  :  I  must,  therefore,  have  a 
disinterested  and  a  Christian  liberality. 
I  may,  however,  paint  to  you  its  objects 
— oh,  that  I  could.  The  poor  creature, 
seized  on  by  fever,  is  perhaps  shunned 
by  all  around  him  :  they  dread  the  in- 
fection ;  they  almost  fear  to  approach 
him,  lest  there  should  be  death  in  the 
touch.  As  the  only  resource,  he  is 
conveyed  towards  the  Hospital  ;  for  it 
there  be  room,  disease  is  the  only  pass- 
port asked  for  admission.  If  there  be 
room — then  the  sufferer  may  be  refused ; 
the  death-thirst  seems  already  upon  him, 
perhaps  delirium  has  begun,  and  the 
wild  wandering  eye  shows  the  mind  to 
be  unhinged.  And  is  such  an  one  to 
be  refused  1  At  this  moment,  perhaps, 
he  might  be,  but  not  to-morrow  ;  and 
why  not  to-morrow?  Because  this  con- 
gregation is  about  to  come  nobly  for- 
ward, and  throw  funds  into  the  hands 
of  the  committee  for  completing  that 
enlargement  of  the  institution  which 
want  of  money,  and  nothing  else,  re- 
tards. And  why  do  I  know  that  this 
congregation  will  make  this  great  effort  1 
Because  they  build  upon  orthodox  doc- 
trine as  their  rock  ;  and  because,  as  I 
am  persuaded,  they  feel  it  incumbent 
on  them  to  make  good  our  text,  in 
regard  of  all  adversaries  of  this  doctrine 
"  Their  rock  is  not  as  our  rock,  our 
enemies  themselves  being  judges." 


New-York:  Printed  by  John  R.  M'Govvn,  No.  106,  Fulton-street. 


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